


Witchcraft

by Kiyuomi



Series: Witchcraft [1]
Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, And by animation I mean a gif of Tadashi trying on hats, Animation, Art, Body Horror, Complete, Death, Digital Art, Gen, Illustrations, Magic, Multi, Tadashi Lives, Tadashi-centric, chapter 15 is major art dump chapter get excite, minor lesbian action in prologue, movie plot combined with magic witchy things, sequel is in writing, slight bro-con on both ends, witch!tadashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 92,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3550760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiyuomi/pseuds/Kiyuomi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"San Fransokyo needs a witch, and Tadashi is more than willing to fill the role."</p><p>An AU where Tadashi survives the fire with magical powers.</p><p>_______<br/>Chapter 21: Abrupt End<br/>The movie’s over and the credits are rolling, but the characters are still struggling to live.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This prologue is extremely long and I apologize to anyone who wants to suffer through it. I hope you enjoy it!

Monsters aren't supposed to exist. They are made up of words in fairy tales, stories where you are the hero and there is nothing to worry about. Stories were everything is full of magic, of love and fame and fortune. The hero is always revered- and the monster dead. There is no monster at the end of every story.

Cynthia supposes this is a sign that her story is just starting out, and hopefully ending peacefully.

The beast in front of her can only be described as a monster. Hulking green skin. Covered in scratches and marks, all signs of a too fast transformation that tore the skin as it hardened. Oozing blue blood- and wasn't that just strange. Yellow eyes. Snarling snout. And three pairs of horns, two small ones leading to a patch of bleeding skin where rough, ivory horns emerged covered in petals. Flowers coated the head, trailing to the shoulders of the beast, and it would be romantic if it wasn't clawing at the brick walls and only causing raw cuts on its fingers. A nail, jagged and cracked, had already been ripped out at the rough treatment and lay by Cynthia's feet. The nail alone was half the length of her foot.

The monster growls as it slams one hand against the wall to its right. A collection of bricks cracked and broke inward, but the damage was nothing to the pained howl of the beast as it lurches backwards. It clutched at its bleeding hand, bleeding from the second knuckles to the fifth pair, and whimpered. Part of Cynthia worries for the beast because if cracking her single set of knuckles hurt, she couldn't imagine what cracking three sets would feel like; another part worries for herself because there's no way a hulking monster would be so entertained with hurting itself to just abandon its prey.

It is shaking again, a slow tremble through its body, and it hurls itself at the wall again. Cynthia winces and ducks her head this time as the vibration of the collision shakes the ground. When she looks up, the monster is whining again and its hand is the least of its worry. Blood- blue blood, is gushing out from a gash across its underside. Shatters of the brick wall and several large chunks are embedded into its ventral side, and it moans softly as it scratches the spot in an attempt to remove the pieces. All it gets for its efforts is more pained moans because raw, bleeding hands shouldn't touch sharp pieces embedded into a vulnerable stomach.

One doesn't learn much about medicine when one majors in economics, but Cynthia's always had a wild side as a child that results in cuts and bruises. Part of her is just aching to stand up and inspect the injury, but the sight of jagged nails is enough to keep her away. Pain is only going to distract the monster for so long, and she'd rather savor her few extra minutes of life.

“Um, excuse me, are you Rose Enheart?”

Cynthia shrieks, and it sounds like a cross between a mule's braying and a sacrificial bunny's last words. She jerks forward, tipping over in her knee-locked position, and ends up sprawled in a fetal position as she stares upwards with shocked eyes. The stranger in front of her gets half a glance before she's jerking her head at the beast. Its still panting and bleeding from the injury, but staring at her (and possibly the stranger). Its going to kill her now, and it's going to be all this person's fault.

Except the monster isn't moving. It lets out another small whimper, almost submissive, before returning its focus to the still bleeding gash on its stomach. Now that Cynthia's focusing, the large pieces of brick have been dug out, and though the beast's hands and stomach is splattered with blue blood, its arms raw welts have mostly smoothed out. Advanced healing, she figures, and its exactly what she doesn't need to hear about a monster that might want to kill her.

“Rose... Enheart?” Now that she's not dead, Cynthia shifts her focus to the figure looming in front of her. The moon is peering over, but the stranger is wearing a hat with a ridiculously large brim that just barely manages to block out the light. She's left with inspecting his body and clothes for an estimation. What she believes to be a cape curls around mid-calve, and right above the cut-off he's wearing short ankle boots with a wide opening. In the light it looks almost lavender, though she can't discern whether it's because of the shadows or her projecting her expectations.

Are... are those shorts? Or a skirt? There's definitely some sort of pleated material in the area between the hips and the thighs, but the weird texture is confusing. It doesn't help that the person is wearing some sort of vest thing and a shirt underneath with long tails of the shirt coming out under the vest. From this position it looks almost navy, but there's still a purple lighting coming from who knows where. All she can notice is a bright gold jewel glistening on a ribbon tied together under the collar of the shirt. It should look weird, but Cynthia's never really understood fashion and she's near crotch level of the person who she's staring at, and that is a pass if she's ever heard one.

“Hello? Do you happen to know a Rose Enheart?” Cynthia jerks her head upwards. The speaker doesn't necessarily have an overly deep voice, nor is it especially enticing, but there's a quality in it that makes her stare. It's probably the patience in the voice, or the caring way it was spoken. Perhaps the way the person pronounced the name, slowly and carefully as though making a mistake would be gravely offensive. And just maybe, the crotch level staring helped make it sound a little sultry too.

The question finally registers and she's gasping and rocking forward onto her ankles immediately. She can only imagine one reason for asking for Rose, and that means this person can help.

“I am!” she blurts out, and the figure twitches in surprise. There's a momentary pause in her head, and she scrambles through her thoughts as she pieces together sentences. This person- they can help Rose. But they're backing away one step at a time, and reaching nervously beneath the cape for something hidden away, and she's moving from her crouching position to full height as her sentences come together.

“That's wrong- I'm not Rose. That's Rose,” a finger, jerking wildly at the beast that was banging at the wall, “But it's not! Rose is elegant and pretty and amazing and she's not that- that thing!” The hand slows its descent into the back, but its still moving so Cynthia moves her mouth faster, “It wasn't supposed to happen! It was just a show- a book and a prank and it's just a game a-and she...” her words are descending into babbling, and a tremble shakes her body as the world spins, “don't hurt her.”

The stranger is moving forward and grabs her hand, and says something that she doesn't quite hear, but the hand that previously was reaching behind swings forward and something is pointing behind her. She turns too, and the beast- Rose- is there. It rumbles and steps forward. The ground trembles, and ooh, that's what shook her before. There's no time to linger though, and before her eyes the stranger is jumping and she's coming with them.

The feeling of jumping is like flying, but scarier. Because the ground is never far from your feet, and you only get so high before gravity slams down and forces you into the ground. That's why Cynthia likes skipping rope, because small hops aren't dangerous and the feeling of being light for moments adds up until she's practically hovering for a period of time. Then her muscles catch up to her euphoria, she misses the rope and the feeling ends.

But this? This is nothing like jump rope hopping. She's moving one foot away, then two and then she's a building above the ground and it's nothing like hovering. Something escapes her mouth, though whether it is a shriek or a gargled noise is unclear, and the stranger only clutches her closer. She's pressed up against buttons and gathered material, but under that is clearly defined muscles; she's fairly certain that the stranger just turned into the man. But there's no proof until word from the person themselves, and she's willing to wait for safety before any poking about gender.

The ground settles beneath her feet (for once, she's not the one crashing down to meet it), and there's no hesitation as Cynthia moves. She marches forward to the edge of the roof of the building, and looks down. They're still on the alleyway, just on the building roof, and the monster below is still. Its looking upwards, worried tilts as it waddles from wall to wall. Cynthia's not sure what its looking for (me, she thinks, is it me?) but the rational fear in her mind wins out and she backs away from the terrace before there's a chance she could fall.

A sound remotely familiar to a chuckle comes out, and she springs around to the source of the voice. The stranger.

“Who are you?” She whirls on him, but the rest of her questions die in her throat when she catches a look at him. Because this is no ordinary stranger, oh no. The lighting is much better on a roof when she's stationed a good six feet away from the person, and the oh so confusing body shape becomes much clearer.

Clean lines. Larger than average ears, and a bent nose. Eyes narrowed in amusement, but large for a- Korean? Taiwanese? Some south eastern nation. One arm hooked on his hip, and she just now notices the sleek white gloves painted on to his hand. The shirt catches on his shoulders- not wide but broad enough. Narrow hips but nice thighs, fleshier than she thought and even at this optimal staring point she can't figure out the pleated bottom the figure wears. But the vest is there, with a folded tuxedo collar and gold buttons over vertical lines. The shirt underneath looks to be a normal dress shirt, just with unreasonably long tails.

It's not lavender but white. The vest does happen to be a darker blue purple blend, though perhaps not dark enough for a navy sub-colorway. Certainly saturated. Gold buttons and trims as far as the eye can see, and then narrow red lines on the vest and trimming the boots. It's a nice color combination, but the most important thing is the enormous hat on his head.

She wasn't kidding about the ridiculous radius of the hat. It's looks slightly floppy, though whether its a design detail or just old is lost on her. What she does notice is the fact that it's not an ordinary shape of a bowler hat, or a sunhat. No. It's a witch hat. Like Halloween witch levels. It's up for a bit then there's a trail of fabric for curling back.

It's a witch hat. In white. On some admittedly fit guy's head.

Cynthia doesn't particularly follow fairy tales, but as far as she's concerned the witch usually tends to be the bad guy. And female. This dude in front of her? So far following none of the usual procedures.

“Um,” Cynthia pauses her oogling to glance upwards. The stranger is looking worriedly at her, but he most definitely noticed her shameless staring judging from the dusting of pink on his cheeks. Or it's the shadow of the witch hat. It's hard to tell, okay?

“That's your friend, right? I'll try my best to hold back,” the figure promises, and Cynthia nods before she realizes what she's agreeing to. The person is already moving when her mouth drops open when the meaning hits, and she follows with a stern expression on her face.

“What do you mean, try?” she reprimands, but it's lost in the cheerful laughter below her and the person leaps down from the building to the alleyway where Rose is. Cynthia is fairly certain that it's not possible for a human to safely do that, but the fear of a serious fight for Rose or the stranger overrides her thought process. Instead, she folds over the fence to wish for the best.

To his credit, Rose turns to him as soon as he hits the ground. There's something of a growling sound from her, then Rose is running claws forward at the stranger. Even from her current height, Cynthia can see the caked blood dried onto Rose's claws.

Yet there's no tension to the stranger's body. He's just... still. The hat is tilted forward and Cynthia can't see his expression from this high up, but it's a clear bet that there's no fear to be felt. Rose swings her arm back, and then it comes crashing forward to catch

Nothing.

A shocked gasp escapes Cynthia and Rose can be seen swinging her head wildly to look for the stranger. Her horn jiggles strangely, and the small petals begin to drift to the ground. An angry snort comes from Rose as her claws catch one side of the wall. Rose jerks her arm back and hisses, cradling the hand against her underside.

It looks pretty bad, and Cynthia's worried about how exactly Rose is going to come out from this. It wasn't supposed to end this way. It was just supposed to be a joke. A shared secret from the very first romantic comedy that they saw together, from the opening seen where the main girl summoned a demon from her closet to become her boyfriend. Cynthia had checked out the movie and book two days before the date and was pleasantly surprised that the spell was copied into the book. She gathered the ingredients, researched what a spell circle was, and set 64 candles around to prepare for Rose.

It had started well. The movie was just as ridiculous the first time, and when Cynthia began preparing for the spell Rose had rewarded her with snorting laughter at the thought of completing the sequence. The candles were lit as they joked, chattering over a half-forgotten bag of popcorn chips (in white cheddar, Rose's favorite) and soon Cynthia was dimming the lights with the book in hand. Sharing mischievous grins, Cynthia began a shaky pronunciation of the strange words in the book. They certainly didn't sound right in her voice, and the giggles that broke through occasionally didn't help, but it was supposed to be a joke anyway.

But then she messed up. She couldn't figure out how to properly pronounce the last line, but she did, and suddenly Rose wasn't laughing anymore. The candles flashed twice, ominously, and Cynthia screamed when the candles exploded into black fire. Then Rose was screaming too, ripping at her skin because she was growing. Muscles that weren't meant for such stress where being multiplied and her skin couldn't keep up. Blood was spilling, and the screaming didn't stop. The growing didn't stop.

Cynthia had escaped the room as soon as Rose turned to her, hair falling out as horns, horns of all things, began breaking through the skin. They were still screaming, though whether it was a fearful shrieking or a horrendous sob was lost on both girls as Cynthia ran. Then Rose's shrill voice was gone, replaced by a lumbering footstep that shook the floor Cynthia was standing on, and before she knew it Cynthia was racing out the door with fear in her eyes.

There was no fear in the stranger's eyes. She gasped when the person reappeared, sauntering towards Rose with the hat still tipped. Rose recoiled into herself, and then she was slinking forward with her arms dragging on the floor. Twenty feet... Fifteen... Ten...

Rose raised her arm, and Cynthia couldn't help the surprised scream when it came slamming down onto the man. But the arm hit nothing but gravel. The man had somehow managed to shift to the right prior to the arm lowering, and his arm was drawn upwards to practically touch Rose. Except it wasn't his arm touching her. It was some object, slender and pointy at the top, and something on it was glowing. Even on the roof, she could hear his next words.

“Thunder and fire, listen to my desire.”

A startled roar as Rose lurched backwards. From the glowing part of the stick-like object emerged two snakes made up of fire and thunder respectively. One had a snake head and darkened spots, and the other had two long tails. The close details were lost on Cynthia as the two merged into a single stream of potential pain, and hit Rose straight on. This time, Rose did shriek.

“What happened to trying to hold back?” Cynthia muttered to herself in shock. How was fire holding back?

Rose crashed into the left wall near the entrance of the alleyway, though it was clear this time she wasn't going to march up again. She lay dazed against the wall, and Cynthia cringed at the sight of fresh blue blood welling from the open cuts on Rose's stomach. It was... good that Rose wasn't moving, but a greater part of Cynthia was worried about all the injuries. But then the stranger was moving forward, hand raised, and Cynthia leaned over to yell.

“Hold back, remember?! Don't hurt her!” The stranger jerked in surprise and glanced upwards, and this time she caught a glance at his face instead of the weird witch hat in the way, and readied the stick again. The edge was glowing again, but with an almost amber glow instead of the previous yellow green light before he uttered the chant with the dragons.

“Cast away your illusions. Reject your delusions. Return to your original form!” The stranger chanted, though the last line was louder than the previous two. The stick's glow grew brighter, and then Rose was glowing the same amber color. Slowly, Rose was moving from her bent position into a crouched one, then standing and finally she was barely hovering on the ground. The glow faded slightly as her head leaned forward.

Then the glow was back with a revenge, and even from her vantage point on the roof top Cynthia felt a pull of her clothes. Something was happening to Rose, but the glow was too bright for Cynthia to see through and she surrendered to closing her eyes and praying for Rose's safety. Then just as soon as the light began, it receded; Cynthia tentatively opened her eyes.

“I believe you can protect her?” Cynthia gasped at the sight of Rose being cradled in the stranger's arms. The teasing voice was barely acknowledged as she scrambled forward to catch Rose. All signs of the crazy night were gone. Well, mostly. There were no more horns, or blue blood, or green skin with welts and bumps on it, but Rose didn't come out clean.

Thin hair, limp and faded in color. Lanky arms that ended in bloody hands with raw knuckles. Cynthia tried not to acknowledge the tears in her eyes when she scanned over Rose and noticed the bleeding gash on her stomach. Though the horns were gone, a large scab was over her right eyebrow. Her legs remained mostly uninjured, but the bloody condition of her hands was enough to worry Cynthia.

“Rose...” she breathed, and ran her fingers through Rose's hair before resting her hand on Rose's back. Best to prevent any potential further damage to Rose's obviously loose hair. Though her skin was slightly pale, it was clear that Rose was in no critical condition. Biting her lip, Cynthia finally tore her eyes away from Rose to thank the stranger for helping her so. But there was no one there.

“Um, hello? Sir? Witch hat guy? Where are you?” Cynthia questioned, straightening her back as she looked left to right for the missing man. Wasn't he there just a few seconds before? Surely there was no way for him to have left so quickly, right? Cynthia frowned; the man deserved an acknowledgment for his work. Where was he?

As if on cue, the sound of soft footsteps caused her to turn her head to the side to follow the noise. But instead of the same man who had done the strange magic tricks seconds ago, it was a tubby cat stalking forward with a glare. Unfortunately, the intimidation technique was ruined by the obvious round belly that fell to the floor as the cat walked. Cynthia couldn't stifle the smile at the silly sight.

The cat mewled softly as it approached. Cynthia watched it carefully; there was a chance of it being a dangerous stray (though she doubted it with the fat belly) or it could try to hurt Rose. But there was nothing particularly dangerous about a chubby kitty, and she welcomed the creature to come close to her (though she tightened her hold on Rose slightly). The cat glanced upward at her, then a wide smile came across its face. It's tail flicked impatiently from side to side, and it tilted its head to the side. Cynthia followed the movement, and her eyes widened in surprise when she caught the familiar silhouette of Rose's savior.

“Mochi, prison break,” the man was smiling at her, warmth evident in his features as he gazed at her arms around Rose. The cat mewled again, almost lazily, and it flicked its tail once more in her direction. Then, it all went to black.

 

“Ridiculous!,” Rose cackled, falling backwards onto the carpet as Cynthia pouted at her over the book in her arms. The spell obviously didn't work, seeing as her rude girlfriend was still acting like a rude girlfriend. But the pout didn't stay for long, and soon Cynthia was joining Rose in her laughter at the amount of work she had put into the spell. Seeking out 64 candles? Really? In hindsight, Cynthia didn't know what she had been thinking.

“You're ridiculous,” Rose snorted, leaning over to cup Cynthia's face. A flash of adoration before she broke into giggles again, throwing her arms over Cynthia as she buried her head into Cynthia's arm. “So ridiculous.”

“What does that make you?” Cynthia retorted, smiling as well. She held Rose's shaking form and hummed happily at the feeling of her happy girlfriend curled up against her. It was a bit disheartening that the effort she had put in did absolutely nothing (at least have the candles flicker or something, really), but the sight of a happy, laughing Rose was more than enough of a reward.

“Ridiculous,” Rose conceded, grinning cheekily in Cynthia's elbow angle, “but I'm your ridiculous girl.” And then she was laughing again, swinging her legs happily as she rolled from her girlfriend's arm to her stomach.

“Yes, yes you are,” Cynthia bit back teasingly, and smirked before she dove her hands in to scrabble at Rose's side. The girl shrieked at the sensation, and arched her back as she began wiggling to try to escape the tickling hands. But Cynthia held her close, enjoying the mirthful mood.

“You are my most ridiculous girlfriend, but I love you for that.”

 

“How cute,” Mochi commented from his position on outside the window. The cat curled his tail around the head of the broomstick and let one paw hang over lazily and he peered to the two laughing girls on the inside of the apartment. No traces of magic to be found, and no signs that there had been any interference with the correct movement of nature. His partner had done a good job.

Speaking of partner, Mochi turned to his newest official charge. The boy was watching the girls too, but there was a sad longing look in his eyes rather than Mochi's almost bored expression. The hands clutching the broomstick tightened, and then the two began to slowly head up to higher air for surveillance. The hat on his head swayed as the duo rose higher, and Mochi waited until they reached forty stories to speak.

“You did a good job today, Tadashi,” the male in question jerked in surprise, and shifted over to glance at Mochi with curious eyes. The cat rolled his eyes in response to the silent question, and elaborated, “No traces of leftover magic. It's only your second week of being the official witch of San Fransokyo, but here you are already solving several cases a day,” Mochi looked at Tadashi's hesitant expression, and promptly gave up all attempts at subtly. “Your father would be proud.”

As expected, Tadashi's face lit up in joy at the thought, and the broomstick accelerated in response to the change in mood. Mochi sighed at the reaction. Really, what would Tadashi do without him? Worry about his actions as a witch probably. It was a good thing Tadashi had a habit of protecting everyone other than himself, or else Mochi would have never even considered Tadashi for the placement of head witch.

“Thanks, Mochi. I'm glad you're here.” Tadashi finally said after they had reached two hundred stories high. He stroked the cat and smiled at the pleased purr Mochi gave in response. It hadn't been easy to face the distressed pair of girls, especially when his hypothesis was proved correct when Cynthia indicated that the monster was Rose. Part of him worried about how the duo managed to make a spell work in the first place, but the more rational part of him reassured him that these magic hiccups happen. As long as he was around, the city would be safe from some of the more dangerous magical hiccups.

With a resigned sigh, Tadashi let his legs swing over to one side of the “broomstick”. It wasn't really an old fashioned wooden broomstick, but instead made of an enchanted metal alloy. Green vine engravings covered it, and in the end where the broom would typically be was just a larger shaped piece of the same metal material. Instead of the enchanted engravings, there were seven gold jewels set in to the material. Occasionally the color would change from gold to green or to red, but under the moonlight Tadashi could only clearly see gold.

Then one flickered from gold to a bright blue, and Tadashi felt his arm increase its grip on the so-called broomstick. Mochi straightened too, adjusting himself to one end of the stick.

“Seventy-fifth street. Two magical beings detected, and possibly three victims involved. Status: yellow,” Mochi read off. With a nod to Tadashi, the cat prepared itself for a leap. Tadashi took the cue and lowered the broomstick into position before he began accelerating. Five people involved in a slow developing magic bubble. Not the worst possible problem, but the number of people involved were worrying. More than one person affected by a magic bubble was always distressing. Especially when the people affected were often friends, family or lovers.

The thought only further fueled Tadashi's speed. Losing a close person was always devastating, regardless of the nature of the relationship. And magic was a cause that nobody wanted to listen to when regarding to a loved one's death.

So Tadashi would be San Fransokyo's witch. He's their personal magic cleaner. Someone to give up their life to dedicate themselves to the job of protection. It's a lot of one person, especially given how large San Fransokyo's red light district is, but Tadashi hasn't been training for nothing. He's given up too much to just abandon his home city.

He'd do anything to protect his city. His family, his friends.

Even if it meant sacrificing his perfect college life. His aunt Cass' seafood casserole. Honey Lemon's cheerful morning greetings. Fred's enthusiastic showing of comics. Wasabi's careful watch over his experiment. Gogo's rough treatment when Tadashi would forget to eat lunch, lost in working on Baymax.

Hiro's gap teeth. Hiro's bright eyes. Hiro's enthusiastic wave of arms when describing his newest project, his work. Hiro's reckless behavior in the bot battles. Hiro's safety always being put in danger when he made the wrong people mad. Hiro's free laugher when Tadashi would come out of nowhere to save him. Hiro's grip on Tadashi's jacket when they sped up. Hiro's sleepy smile when he would mumble “G'night, Tada-ni”. Hiro's pleased mumble when he slid into Tadashi's bed after a nightmare, a cold night or just out of boredom. Hiro.

Tadashi would protect Hiro no matter what. Even if it meant sacrificing his personal relationship with Hiro. His perfect sibling life.

He's coming in close to seventy-fifth street now, and he can hear the panicked screaming. Something is out on the street now. It's probably some sort of animal hybrid judging from what he thinks is a tail. But it's too far to be certain, and he folds away his broomstick and readies himself with a wand. Mochi jumps off first and pads over to the scene, glancing upwards at Tadashi expectantly. The words come easier than he first thought they would.

“Enter the world of the Witches.” The scenery changes, colors blending into themselves and everything goes fuzzy for a second before it sets back into place. The change is subtle, but a closer look reveals a level of detail that wasn't previously there. The magical creature, definitely a cat man now that Tadashi can see clearly, is growling irritably as it stalks around the street. The barrier has been set. It's time for Tadashi to work.

San Fransokyo needs a witch, and Tadashi is more than willing to fill the role.


	2. Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baymax has many problems.  
> Broken vinyl. Coding errors. Wrong materials. Lack of parts.  
> Lack of a heart.
> 
> It never occurs to Tadashi that magic has peculiar methods of transport.

            Creating Baymax was probably the hardest thing Tadashi's ever done, second only to taking care of Hiro. The idea of a nursing robot was strange enough to cause a few raised eyebrows when he first presented the idea to SFIT's judges during the student showcase, and although he had little more than a printed draft and a few side projects to show his coding experience, it was enough for Robert Callaghan to clap him on the back with a nod.

            Tadashi went home that night with tears in his eyes and a scholarship.

            As difficult as it was to create a believable plan for creating the robot, executing said plan was much tougher. Tadashi had to gather the materials, create smaller prototypes and do all necessary medical research, and fit said hundreds of years of research into what Hiro would probably dub a “giant marshmallow”. So it was hard.

            The thought of Baymax helping people made it better. Tadashi was selected to be the TA despite concerns voiced by other, older students. But Professor Callaghan dismissed all worries by saying that Tadashi was picked because of his potential, not his age. Soon enough, people began to see why Tadashi was chosen. Laboratory reports were filed neatly, accident reports checked on time and Tadashi was always there with a reassuring smile and a first aid kit when accidents happened.

            If Baymax was completed, then it would be Baymax there as a first aid kit instead of Tadashi. It could mean faster care, more time for Tadashi to finish school assignments and organize reports, and it would mean impressing Professor Callaghan. Baymax would be so amazing.

            With that thought in mind, Tadashi sat down and worked.

 

            “This would be easier if you would just tell me what was wrong,” groaned Tadashi in annoyance at the thirty-fourth failed test. He halfheartedly punched the vinyl, admiring the way the material smoothed itself as soon as he removed his fist. At least Baymax was structurally sound, even though his coding was far from perfect. Far from decent really, but Tadashi still had a few fragments of his pride that he'd like to keep, thanks.

            As if on cue, Baymax tilted its head sideways. When had that happened? Tadashi didn't program that! With a frustrated sigh, he pushed the robot's head back in place. When the test began, he was so hopeful when Baymax uttered the “Hello, I am Baymax” phrase. His hope was then ruthlessly destroyed when Baymax stepped forward, only to come face first into the ground. With a helpless sigh, Tadashi had resigned himself to pulling his robot upwards and wondering what exactly was the error this time.

            Broken vinyl. Coding errors. Wrong materials. Lack of parts.

            Lack of a heart.

            Tadashi miserably rubbed his hand over Baymax's head. Most mistakes were easy (in concept) changes. Broken vinyl just meant more cutting, more trimming, more material. Coding errors meant he had to search through all the data on the chip, but he had so many backups and alternate methods that coding errors where simple 1-2 fixes. Wrong materials were a little harder to deal with. He'd have to figure out whether a part was too heavy (which would cause the robot to be weighed down), and then replace it with something similar enough to handle the tasks that Baymax would need to do. Lack of parts was only an occasional problem, and the most memorable issue Tadashi had was hooking Baymax properly so that he could use defibrillators. SFIT was full of technology, and any missing pieces in a laboratory only needed a walk down a hall to fix the problem.

            A lack of heart was a problem that Tadashi didn't know how to fix.

            It had been easy with Seryuu. The blue dragon only needed a simple structure to allow it to “fly” and track Hiro down whenever Tadashi's brother decided it was a good idea to throw himself recklessly into danger. Seryuu just needed to be able to follow Hiro and alert Tadashi with a message when blood or unreasonably high heart rates were found.

            But when Tadashi found Hiro in tears, broken robot in hand and with a black eye, it was clear that Seryuu needed a few upgrades.

            He had started with installing eyes that could record. Then a few stolen magnetic servos from Hiro to allow the dragon to move more smoothly and separate as needed to track both Hiro and his chasers. A few installments later and then Seryuu was hovering over the ground. Proper coding to allow Seryuu to acknowledge any medical issues that could arise in an illegal scene. And turning Seryuu into an AI, because while Hiro was good at hardware and minimizing, Tadashi preferred coding and loved his AIs.

            So Seryuu ended up as a dragon that was probably more suited for bot battes than Tadashi had intended, and ended up slightly sassy, but it was okay because Seryuu served its purpose. It watched over Hiro when Tadashi was at school, and alerted him whenever Hiro was in trouble.

            And then one street punk found Seryuu, took it and left the scene with a “cool new battle bot” in hand.

            It had not ended well for anyone.

            There was little more to be done. Seryuu couldn't very well electrocute anything within distance, and Tadashi wouldn't tell Hiro just how exactly he was tracking him because otherwise Hiro might just adopt a few more escape methods. So Tadashi did the only thing he could.

            He gave Seryuu a heart.

            The bot only became more sassy then. Sarcastic comments were slung 24/7, and the bot developed an irritating stance of crossing its miniature arms and floating over Tadashi's head when he was working on plans for Baymax. But Seryuu was no longer an 'it', but a she. Seryuu was no longer pieces of code strung together, but a creature that lived like any other person.

            Tracking Hiro became so much easier. Seryuu learned maternal instincts, and she followed Hiro from a distance. Eventually Tadashi gave in and installed the electronic shocks that she desired, and surprise thugs in the alleyway were no longer an issue. Seryuu wanted laser eyes too, but Tadashi left it to Fred's influence and said no. Regardless of whatever upgrades he gave Seryuu, she completed her job with ruthless efficiency. Take care of anyone who might hurt Hiro, and call Tadashi if the situation was out of her control. More than a few times Seryuu refused to call Tadashi out of stubborn pride, but the threat of Hiro being seriously hurt was always enough to shake the AI into contacting Tadashi.

            It was so much easier when Tadashi gave away a heart.

 

            Tadashi is seventeen when Baymax survives test fifty six with no errors, but deflating arms. The introduction phrase is still off, but at least Baymax is no longer trying to kill Tadashi with hugs or swinging arms. Which is a success in most cases.

            More vinyl is an easy fix, and Tadashi occupies himself with measuring out the material and rechecking Baymax's proportions. An extra meter here, an extra meter there... it's an easy process of measuring, checking and cutting that Tadashi easily gets lost in. Fixing vinyl is easy.

            “Still not working?” He chuckles as he turns to the source of a voice. Leaning against the doorway is Gogo, cocked hips, crossed arms and all, and he can hear the dripping annoyance in her voice. Honey Lemon leaves two hours after her last class and is long gone before midnight on most nights. Wasabi prefers leaving at an early ten thirty so he can get plenty of sleep. To his credit, his laser project is coming out well despite his strict schedule. Fred does whatever he wants whenever he wants, unless it's Tuesday, which means he leaves at eight. And Gogo?

            Gogo stays with Tadashi until the late hours of the morning. If there's anyone who can be found passed out on the laboratory couch, it's either of them. Gogo loses herself in grinding her disks, calculating the rotations per minute and figuring out how well she can fight the force of friction. She's done at least two hundred tests against the normal force; because even though Gogo likes speed, she knows better than to rush her project. Tadashi gets himself lost on coding, simple tasks like fixing vinyl and searching for new parts aren't hard on the head, but are time-consuming. Either way, they've developed a pact that no one leaves unless the other one is nearly done first.

            So Gogo stays. Tadashi throws an amused look over his shoulder as he gestures to the half cut vinyl left on the counter. He's obviously not done, and if that isn't an indicator for Baymax's progress he doesn't know what is.

            “Ripped again? You might have too much pressure,” Gogo remarks, sauntering in now that she's assured that Baymax isn't going to chase after her for a hug. Tadashi offers a weak grin. He figured that out on test twenty two, but every time he solves one problem another arises. Part of him wonders if he's even going to finish Baymax and graduate in time.

            “Yeah, thanks. Baymax is just... taking some time. What about you?” He throws back. Gogo wouldn't wait around for three hours doing nothing, and Tadashi heard her frustrated roar only an hour earlier. Coupled with his own despair over his failed test, the two could probably solidify the feeling of disappointment if they tried.

            “Not fast enough,” she tosses, flicking her hand irritably, “the second wheel fell off mid-test. It's too loose.” Ooh, Tadashi winces as he pauses his work to really look at Gogo. Her clothes are in order, but her left hand is messily bandaged and there's a bandage with pink strawberries on her cheek. It matches the scribbled strawberry on her bandaged hand. Sighing, Tadashi sets down his scissor and rolls his chair over to the side.

            “Come here,” he gestures, and Gogo follows. It's standard procedure by this point, and by the time Gogo sits on the floor near Tadashi's chair her hand has been un-bandaged. It's not bad; the skin between her index finger, middle and ring finger are ripped and her middle finger nail is ripped, but her knuckles are just slightly scratched up. Compared to the first few trials of Gogo's bike, this level of injury is praise-worthy.

            “Thanks, doc,” she mentions as Tadashi fixes the bandages. Some of it is bloody, and he sorts through his first aid kit for a new roll with pink and purple polka-dots. Gogo gives an amused snort when he locates it with an “a-ha!” and begins wrapping her hand.

            “Too bad Baymax isn't working. This would be a great test,” Tadashi mumbles, mostly to himself. He's not so low as to let his friends get hurt for a test, but when the opportunity arises so often he wishes that Baymax could be completed and sent into some real practice runs.

            “So eager to experiment on us, Tadashi? I'm shocked,” the statement is teasing, but it pulls a pout from the teen anyway. He likes it when Gogo breaks her serious mood to give some satirical comment or nicely tease her friends, but he likes it more when it's not directed at him.

            “You know that's not what I meant,” he doesn't need to say it, but it's a habit, “there, done.” Humming appreciatively, Gogo removes her hand from Tadashi's hold. It's bandaged neatly now, and the overlapping pastel colors doesn't look as tacky as she imagined. With careful movements, she tests her hand. No pain. As usual for doctor Tadashi.

            “Thanks. We closing up, or not?” Tadashi gives her a surprised look, before glancing back down at his watch. It's not that late into the night. The watch blinks up at him with a 2:13, and it isn't the latest he's left school. But a glance at Gogo reveals the beginnings of bags under her eyes, and he's certain that she's been tired from the day's work.

            “Closing,” he heaves as he kicks against the wall. The chair skids across the floor, and he grunts when his back hits the edge of the desk. Gogo nods and rises from her seated position, and promptly heads for the door. Its routine for one to give a warning to the other before leaving, and then meeting up in the garage to collect their respective mode of travel (Gogo has the coolest motorcycle, and Tadashi's a little embarrassed to say he took it for a few joyrides without her knowledge).           

            Sighing to himself, Tadashi looks at the half cut vinyl and decides to leave it. With a sweeping motion of his arms, he slowly collects his work. A half-edited essay. Progress reports submitted from today's lab events. At least four incident reports that need to be submitted- two of which refer to Wasabi's lasers. And a complaint from an underclassman about how Tadashi shouldn't be a TA given his age. It comments about his lack of “adult experiences” and how he's most likely immature because he's a whole year younger than the majority of the school's entering students. Though Tadashi can dismiss most of the statements, there is one that hits home.

            “He hasn't even sent in a complete project prototype.”

            Although complaints about Tadashi's age and position aren't uncommon, this one is true. Most TAs get their position by finishing their projects early, taking advanced classes or generally managing more work at a faster pace than others. Tadashi? He's taking advanced classes, juggles a busy schedule, but he has nothing in his work portfolio other than preliminary drafts. And that's the issue. He's in SFIT, which is supposed to mean he's smart and ahead of others, but instead he's working on a project that's falling behind the projects of the people he's meant to be supervising.

            Baymax has been neatly folded away into its carrying case, but the sight of it causes Tadashi's frustrated growl. Baymax just wasn't working- had he made a mistake? Most people took hundreds of tests to perfect their project, but prototypes could always be handed in with errors. Rather, it was expected of a prototype to have errors. All it needed to do was the outlined bare minimum.

            But Baymax couldn't even do that. Every test, a new issue was revealed. Test fifty-six brings him vinyl issues, but discarding his attempts to build Baymax before the tests, this test is the twenty second test that requires him to re-cut the vinyl. It's fine if he has new errors, but they're not. It's the same old things that pop up over and over, and honestly Tadashi's not sure how much more he's willing to work with these errors.

            “If only I could give you a heart.” It's wistful wishing at this time, but Tadashi doesn't care. It would be so much easier with a heart. Baymax would operate of its own inclinations, and figure out its own errors, and Tadashi wouldn't have to worry. Baymax would be able to grow and adapt to situations better than any coding could do, but Tadashi couldn't do it. He wouldn't.

            He's seventeen now, which means he only has a year to finish Baymax. Sure, if he could stay in college for all four years to work on Baymax he would split a piece of heart for the robot. Tadashi's certain that Baymax would be amazing with a piece of heart. But he's under a time crunch, and even a heart might not be enough of a boost for all the improvements Baymax still needs to be any semblance of complete. Tadashi can't just take the heart back, and that means that he would be risking the laws just to hurry along his personal robotics project. There's a risk of him leaving Baymax unfinished with a heart, and that's unacceptable.

            If only he was like Hiro. Graduating high school at thirteen would mean that he would be able to work on Baymax for those extra few years. Not to mention, with Hiro's brain he would probably be able to finish Baymax before the four years were up. He would be able to give Baymax the heart it deserves, give Baymax the life it deserves, but he can't. So he doesn't.

            Tadashi stands with a final sweeping sigh. He grabs his bag, loads his remaining papers into the opening and ignores the rustle of papers being squeezed into a too tight area. He hastily zips it up, and turns off the light as he breaks into a run. Gogo's probably waiting impatiently for him, and he's made her wait long enough already with his musing. He runs just a little faster.

            He only has a year. It's not enough.

            Only prayers can help him complete Baymax now.

 

            “You're late.”

            Tadashi winces with a sheepish grin at the accusation. Gogo's not wrong- he's usually ready and in the garage within three minutes after her arrival. They usually meet up in the hall while waiting for the elevator. But his ticking watch reminds him that today, Gogo has been left waiting for ten minutes.

            “Sorry, just... a lot of thinking. That's all,” all he gets for his explanation is a raised eyebrow, but then Gogo turns to mount her bike. It's sleek, black with smooth curves. Small indents near the back and specks of dirt as proof of Gogo's reckless driving, but any major damages are usually taken care of by the girl the day they occur. Tadashi follows suit, mounting his moped with a sigh.

            “Let's go,” and they're off, Gogo ahead with hunched shoulders. She's slipped her helmet on while Tadashi readied his bag in the back of the moped, and by the time he's properly situated with helmet on she's out the garage and zooming down the road.

            Gogo's fast. Smart. Courageous. In a fair world, it would be her managing the city rather than him. She'd be able to handle it. Sure, sometimes when calculating velocity she'd forget a force or mess up her units, but a quick check of her calculations always reveal the issue. Not to mention her bravery to brace the streets with an unfinished product every time. Wasabi calls it reckless, and it is, but Tadashi sees the courage in the action as much as her impatience. Tadashi is certain that if she could, Gogo would be an amazing witch.

            But she can't, and there's no one to pass the name off to (not that Tadashi would burden them with it). Part of Tadashi is proud to have met such an amazing person. Another part is envious, wishing for Gogo's speed. If he had it, perhaps he could finish Baymax with no problem.

            “...What's wrong?” He blinks in surprise at Gogo riding alongside him. She was at least fifteen meters ahead just before, but now her head is cocked and they're both riding incredibly slowly (not really, just barely below the speed limit. Wasabi would be grateful). When did that happen? He offers her a reassuring smile, but it doesn't seem to have any effect from the way she gently kicks his moped. “Speak,” she demands this time, and with a click the visor of her helmet comes up to reveal narrowed eyebrows and a crooked frown.

            “Don't worry about it,” he tries again, but Gogo just glares harder. It's hard to lie to Gogo, or even hide some of the truth. Tadashi's inability to properly lie just makes it worse. Curse his good nature!

            “Don't lie to me,” blunt, as always, “You're blanking out. What's going on?” There's curiosity in her voice, but even more prominent is the caring way she says it. She's still gripping the handlebars tightly, but one hand loosens and she turns partly towards Tadashi. He gives a shrug in exchange. There's not much to say that he can say.

            “Your turn,” he gestures to the upcoming light. It's an excuse to hide behind, but Tadashi's willing to take all the time he can to avoid the issue. Gogo gives a huff as tightens her hands again. The bike gives a puff of exhaust and she's speeding up now. Tadashi waits patiently, driving along at the same miserable speed. Two feet separate, then three. They're almost at the turn.

            “Fine. But you're not getting away with this!” Gogo snaps, but it's a heartfelt promise rather than an annoyed expression. She slams her visor down and jerks her bike to the right. A car honks, but her hunched figure and helmet reveal nothing as she curves. Tadashi bits back an amused chuckle at the furious driver's expression when she swings her bike alongside their front lights, but Gogo's careful enough not to hit anything. Despite her speed and excessively large turn, there's no sign of damage on either Gogo or the car.

            “MOVE!”

            A honk rings through the air, and Tadashi realizes that it's him getting yelled at this time. He had slowed down while admiring Gogo's turn. He offers an apologetic glance at the car behind him (where he gets the lovely sight of two raised middle fingers) before speeding up. Twenty miles per hour turns to forty, and then he's riding thirteen miles above the speed limit. Gogo's not the only adrenaline lover on the team.

            Tadashi loves the feeling of speeding up. The feeling of the wind through his hair, the freedom of the road and the sharp cuts when turning at just the right moment. Sure, he gets more honks that Aunt Cass would dream of when on the road, but it's worth it for the rush. He'd imagine Hiro gaping at him for riding so fast, and chuckles to himself. He wouldn't dare take such risks when there was a chance of his baby brother being hurt.

            He's almost home now. His watch beeps irritably, the clock reading two fifty seven. Aunt Cass should have been asleep at least three hours ago, and Tadashi hasn't received a message from Seryuu yet which indicates that Hiro should be at home as well. He's graduating high school this year and Tadashi is excited, but a greater part of him is worried. Bot battling was just a small pastime Hiro would indulge in once every two weeks or so, but as the school year is ending he's been going out more and more. Bot battling is dangerous, and even with Tadashi showing up to drag Hiro out in trouble and his reprimanding when they arrive home, Hiro has been going out more frequently.

            Despite creating Seryuu and placing trackers in the tags of all of Hiro's hoodies and shirts, the thought of his younger brother bot battling is still horrifying. Tadashi knows that he can protect Hiro, but for how long? When January 17th hits, he won't be able to protect Hiro anymore. It would be illegal for him to get involved after that point, and unless Hiro starts showcasing magic Tadashi has no excuses for interfering with fate and Hiro's life.

            He's still not certain just how the passing will work. One can't just disappear and rewrite fate for eighteen years. There's a reason why witches have a time limit on missions, and it's because barriers for reversible fate can only be kept up for so long before it falls out of balance with the rest of the world. All of Mochi's spells wouldn't be able to erase one year of interaction between Tadashi and Hiro, much less the fourteen years the two would have lived together in time for Tadashi's disappearance.

            Lucky Cat Cafe peeks out the corner of his eye, and Tadashi realizes that he had gotten lost in thoughts. With a surprised yelp, he drives right past the cafe, and he sighs as he slows down the moped. There's only a few cars out and he can handle a U-turn at this intersection, but the Wasabi in his mind tells him to just take the safe route. He gives a slow turn at the next intersection, and begins his way around.

            Lucky Cat Cafe is dark. There's no lights on, not even upstairs in Hiro's room. Tadashi heaves a sigh of relief- Hiro's probably asleep. With a smooth purr, he slows the moped to a stop and gives a shaky jerk to slide the moped to the side of the garage. He should probably properly tuck the moped into the garage, but with a tired sigh he simply grabs his bag and prepares for the march upstairs. If Hiro and Aunt Cass are both out, he'll have to be extra careful.           

            Actually, if both Hiro and Aunt Cass are sleeping, that means that the only person to bear witness to Tadashi would possibly be Mochi. It's risky behavior, but it's past three AM now and honestly, Tadashi is not looking forward to General Engineering tomorrow with Mr. Bisque. Nobody wants general engineering in the morning with Mr. Bisque. Nobody.

            Tadashi pushes the moped forward, and grins to himself as the scene plays out. The garage door begins folding upwards, tucking itself neatly away. The garage is messy as far as Tadashi can tell, but there's no Hiro sleeping inside nor important half-finished robot pieces. The moped fits itself in, and then the garage door is slamming shut. Tadashi skips towards the front door now, feeling uplifted now that he's free to experiment.

            The door swings upon before Tadashi can touch it. There's no gentle chime that usually happens, and Tadashi lets out a relieved sigh. He's careful to tug off his shoes before entering, and sets his bag down near the entrance. Usually he would carry it upstairs, but without his word the bag begins to hover. By the time he's finished peeling off his outer layers and his shoes, the bag is halfway up the stairs.

            Tadashi follows suit, wandering to the back of the kitchen on the second floor. There's leftovers in the fridge, but honestly all he wants to do is sleep. Even if Aunt Cass has prepared pasta today. There's breaded chicken on top, staring at Tadashi and beckoning him closer, and he's so tempted to reach in and eat it. Aunt Cass' cooking is the best, and even cold he's certain that it'll taste amazing.

            “Careful,” Tadashi gasps and whirls around at the sound. He's frantically searching with his eyes, stance careful in front of the fridge and readies his right hand for an attack. He certainly didn't sense anyone coming up, which could mean two things. One- he's too hungry for thinking. Or two- the person is either very experienced or a magic user. If it's two, then Tadashi might end up having to hit someone.

            “Down here,” Mochi's voice is smug, and Tadashi rolls his eyes as he drops his stance. His appetite spoiled with the scare, he shuts the refrigerator door with a huff. Mochi is pawing forward with a smirk, waving his short tail in the air as he curls around Tadashi's legs. Normally Tadashi would stay and indulge Mochi in a petting session, but it's late (or early) and he wants to sleep.

            “'M going to bed,” he settles for, and slowly removes one foot from Mochi's grip. Mochi lets go with a disappointed growl, and continues his trek down the stairs. Tadashi wonders where exactly his pet cat is going, but the urge to sleep rides out his curiosity and he walks upstairs. By the time he makes it to the top, he sees his bag neatly hung on the door. Thank magic.

            He heads for the bathroom first, and waves a hand. As expected, the door swings shut after he enters the bathroom and his toothbrush and cup begin to move. A visit with the toilet and the sink later, he's closing the bathroom door with a groan. He feels gross from today's work schedule and would prefer to shower, but soundproofing the bathroom would require Mochi's help and Tadashi doesn't want to call the cat back just so he can shower. Careful not to make any creaking noises, he walks to his shared room with Hiro.

            Hiro's sprawled out on his bed, and Tadashi lets himself crack a smile. Hiro's snoring is no laughing matter, it ranges from soft kitten noises to obnoxious loud snores that could frighten a bear. Today it's smack dab in the middle, which is great because Tadashi can handle most of Hiro's snoring. He's too tired to really care about how loud Hiro is, and moves to his side of the room, only to raise his eyebrows.

            He recalls making his bed this morning, and yet somehow there are small bot parts scattered around. There's also a half eaten pack of gummy bears on his desk, and two of his textbooks are on the floor instead of their original position on the shelf. Which is now taken up by what he presumes is a prototype of Hiro's next battle bot. It looks half finished, with a magnetic servo head and what appears to be a plastic leg. It's an odd choice, but probably just placeholders until Hiro can get the rest of the materials to upgrade his bot.

            Tadashi smooths his bed covers and sweeps the bot parts to the floor. They luckily don't make much noise when hitting the ground, and he proceeds to strip his clothing. He really doesn't want to go to bed feeling gross, but putting on clean pajamas only to stain them dirty doesn't sound like a good option either. Besides, laundry day is only in two days and it would be better to toss his bed covers in the wash then new clothes. He does allow himself an old T-shirt and boxers before sliding into bed.

            Today has been packed with classes and work. Ordinarily that would mean Tadashi would groan dramatically before settling himself for a night of tossing on his bed while thinking up new ideas, but it's not so bad now. Using magic at night has essentially made his day awesome (as overused as the word is), and he sighs as he settles himself for sleep. It's been a long day.

 

            The next day, Gogo gives him a raised eyebrow and a “come hither” look, but Tadashi studiously ignores it for his studying for his test in Mrs. Farrel's class. Calculus 3 isn't as interesting as he makes it out to be, but Honey Lemon has to study for it too, which is enough to convince Gogo to leave him alone. He indulges himself in Thai food for lunch and leaves early to work a shift for Aunt Cass. Gogo is still watching now, and by now Fred has caught on and tosses worried looks between the two. But Tadashi does have to work for Aunt Cass, and there is no pressing.

            The day after, Gogo tells him that he sucks at keeping secrets. Honey Lemon brings in donuts from a local store, and Wasabi panics when Gogo drops crumbs on the worktable. Wasabi panics even more when Fred spills the jelly in his donut on the floor. Tadashi gives Wasabi a sympathetic look, and picks out a chocolate donut for him, and a frosted jelly donut for Hiro.

            On the third day, the topic is dropped.

 

            He never gives Baymax a heart, but it doesn't matter because test eighty four works and he's overjoyed. He's not even eighteen yet, which means that he technically can install a heart in and not break any rules. But Callaghan tells him he's proud of all his work, proud that Tadashi stuck to it and chose not to take shortcuts for a quick but sloppy product, and Tadashi promptly decides that Baymax doesn't need a heart from him. What Tadashi will do edit Baymax's coding so that it can made its own decisions, and develop its own heart. With a gleeful spin, he takes out his chip and sticks a piece of tape on it. Messily scrawled in the front, he writes his name.

 

            Tadashi notices that his chip is practically indestructible. He drops it more times than he can count, and in many of Baymax's crazy trials, he's never had to replace the chip. He makes a mental note to recommend the brand to anyone who needs chips for coding. But Ana, who's been trying to create a robotic arm that tracks the movement of objects so that it can one day stop a bullet, tells Tadashi that her chips have shattered during the process. He watches her arm work, and when the hand misses the ping pong ball and collapses over the table, they pick up the wreckage and locate the now broken chip. Two weeks later, Tadashi watches his chip be crushed by two hundred pounds of whatever chemical Honey is working with, and it comes out fine.

            It never occurs to Tadashi that magic has peculiar methods of transport.

 

            January 17 comes and goes. Tadashi turns eighteen, and nothing changes. Hiro's still a brat (“now you're an adult nerd!”); Honey Lemon bakes him a cake that's just a bit too sweet; Fred brings him comic books and asks Tadashi to promise to build him a robotic arm; Wasabi buys Tadashi new parts for his computer and treats the whole gang to lunch (“Free food!” Fred yells, to which Gogo elbows him and mutters that it's not his birthday); Gogo gives Tadashi a new modified helmet and Aunt Cass has a feast for when he returns home. It's an awesome day.

            Then Mochi comes to his room with a predatory smirk, and Tadashi is too busy grinning at his amazing day to really notice. Several of his classmates have given him birthday gifts too, ranging from cards to chocolates to robotic pieces and books (which are his favorite) and on four separate occasions, floral bouquets. Underclassmen that he didn't even know well crafted him small charms and one group of girls created a mood key chain that would shoot out fireworks if he was happy. Which was a health hazard, but the thought made him happy all the same.

            Which is why when Mochi leaps on his bed with something long in his mouth, Tadashi dismisses it as just another gift. He looks over to Hiro to see if it was his little brother that stuck a gift in Mochi's mouth, but Hiro is asleep in his bed and already gave a gift to Tadashi earlier on (a promise to not bot battle for a month, which Tadashi strongly doubts, two new cardigans and the third novel in a series Tadashi had recommended Hiro check out two months prior). It's then that he realizes that Mochi's mouth is curved in an awfully smug smile, and with a groan he plucks the gift from the cat's mouth. Mochi is only ever that smug when something bad is going to happen to Tadashi and Hiro, not enough to warrant panic but enough to end in amusement. It doesn't made the incidents any less embarrassing.

            It's neatly wrapped. A ivory colored letter with wine ribbon hangs off the main slender gift. Tadashi moves to open the envelope, but Mochi mewls impatiently and plops the gift onto Tadashi's lap. The message is clear, and with shaky hands Tadashi begins to peel at the neat paper. He notes that it has light red horizontal stripes, and shuts down the thought that it might be from Honey.

            When he peels away the last of the paper, Tadashi nearly drops the gift. Mochi lets out a noise that might have been a laugh, but it's ignored for what's in Tadashi's hands. It's smooth and slender- one side is soft, molded gold. It's a handle, and in the center is a ruby. Then the rest of it is much more slender, narrowing silver and ivory blend until the end. At the opposite side of the handle is a crescent moon shape opening upwards, and set in the middle is a bright gold, almost glowing jewel. It's gorgeous, it's amazing and it's magical. It's a wand.

            “Well?” Mochi nudges Tadashi, as though his wide eyes and gaping mouth isn't expression enough. He's never owned, much less even seen, a wand before. The wand is firm to the touch, and in a light of curiosity, Tadashi grabs the handle and gives an experimental swing. The rush of magic in his body is shocking. It vibrates from him to his fingertips to the wand, and then the wand gives a burst of energy back. He's never felt magic this way, and suddenly being a witch is that much better.

            “Unbelievable...” is all Tadashi can manage, and then Mochi gives and amused purr and drops the forgotten letter on Tadashi's lap. With careful figures, Tadashi turns it over. There's a wax seal on the back, and in the dim light it's hard to view all the details; but in the middle, the initials “C.W.” are clear. Slowly, he peels off the seal and edges the letter until the fold comes out cleanly. He pulls the flap upwards.

            Inside is a letter, what appears to be a card and what he thinks might be money. It says 500  on it, but rather than the typical green dollar that he usually sees, it's rainbow with red on one side and purple on the other. He pulls out the card, and lets out a pleasant hum. It's an I.D., but rather than the typical driver's license, it has the words “Official Witch: San fransokyo” printed. Tadashi feels pride swell up in his body, and he can't suppress the wide grin that stretches across his face.

            Mochi seems to have given up on urging Tadashi to view his gifts and has settled on lazing on his bed. Which is fine, because Tadashi wants to read his letter slowly. With careful fingers, he grabs the letter with his index finger and thumb. One hand grips the middle, and then he's unfolding it and awaiting the words. A shaky breath escapes- he's never received direct contact by the Council of Witches outside of Mochi's messages and this will be the first time he's received a letter by them. Finally, he flicks open the letter, expecting neatly written script and fancy letters.

            He's not expecting the letter to explode into confetti.

            Tadashi will deny the shriek that came out for the rest of his life. He launches himself backwards and scrambled to kick his legs out. Some small part of him worried about whether or not he woke Hiro, but the majority of him was wondering “WHAT'S GOING ON?”

            Mochi, for all his help, was now laughing shamelessly on the corner of Tadashi's bed. Rude.

            “Happy Birthday, Tadashi Hamada,” Tadashi jerked his head at the voice. It didn't sound familiar, and a glance around the room didn't indicate anyone was speaking. Other than the still falling confetti, and Mochi's laughing form, there's no indication of movement in the room. But the voice continued despite Tadashi's frantic search.

            “You are now eighteen years of age. Congratulations on your success of being recognized as an official witch on this day. As per the request submitted by your familiar, you have also been recognized as the official witch of San Fransokyo.”

            The rain of confetti was now ending, and Tadashi could finally see a small blue glowing ball floating in the air. Previously hidden in the falling colorful flakes, it was now pulsing in accordance to the words that were being announced. Which reminded Tadashi- could Hiro be listening in? Had he awoken his little brother with his shout?

            “As accordance to Witch Council rules, your years eighteen through twenty five will be a trial to discover your magic. You will be taking upon the task of protecting a city from dangerous magic users, helping spiritual animals and at times, will be called to assist in emergencies in other parts of the world. If you have forgotten some of the rules of the magic world, we have also sent you the most recent updated version of _Witch: The Guidebook_ fifteenth edition.”

            A quick look around the room didn't reveal any book, and Tadashi is pretty certain that if Mochi had carried it in, he would have noticed a bulky book in the cat's mouth. Speaking of Mochi, he had now settled down to listen to the blue ball. Tadashi bent forward to look just over Mochi's form, and was satisfied to find Hiro still sprawled out and snoring on his bed.

            “Unlike most beginning witches of this era, you have been blessed with powerful magic from birth. This is believed to be related to your father's magic potential. He was a splendid witch, and we at Witch Council have high hopes you will be too. Although it is unfortunate that he had died in such a manner, we assure you that our ranks of magic have increased since then, and many protection measures have been put in effect.”

            The mention about his father made Tadashi twitch in surprise and hurt. His father had been amazing, and it was hard to imagine him living up to his father's legacy. Tadashi would never let anyone kill the way they attacked his father.

            “We at Witch Council are deeply apologetic in our delays of conversing with you previously. Due to our increased number of beginning witches and a general interest in the supernatural, there have been numerous cases of accidental magic and magic bubbles. If you have any questions about these events, you can consult the guidebook or your familiar.

            “Tadashi Hamada, the Witch Council will be sending out your staff, uniform and further information at a later date. As the official head witch of a major magic city, we have recognized your potential and decreased the magical limiters on your wand. Your familiar and guidebook should inform you for any further questions.”

            Tadashi gave Mochi a look, to which the cat hunched his shoulders. Tadashi wasn't aware he was getting a new wardrobe with the job, but he wasn't going to complain so long as it fit. And the lack of magic limiters seemed like an interesting addition.

            “However, we have encountered a problem with your records. It appears that you currently reside in a house with non-magical people or animals, or beings that have not been registered in the Witch Council database. As you are now an official witch, it is important that you cut off connections with these people as soon as possible to prevent possible magic glitches and bubbles. As a witch, it is your job to protect others who can not protect themselves, and this includes close friends, families or beloveds.

            “Due to our delay in informing you, you will be permitted to continue living with these household members in their knowledge until we later contact you about the date of your disappearance. Remember that during your stay in this household, you are not to reveal your abilities or knowledge to anyone who has not been recognized by the Witch Council or anyone who does not have capable magic abilities. There are those members in the area who have been recognized by the witch council and have been informed about your new status: in the case that you desire help for your disappearance, you can contact them.

            “It is not expected of you to be a full-time witch on your birthday. It is understandable that you require some time to fully adapt to a life with magic. Our seven year trial period will allow you to decide whether the life of the Witch is the life for you, and if so what positions you will be holding. You will not receive any missions until after your disappearance from the non-magical world, but you can choose to enroll in missions prior if you believe you can handle them. Your familiar should keep you updated on this.

            “We expect great things from all our Witches, Tadashi Hamada. You are no exception. Due to your high magic potential, we at Witch Council recognize you to be a potential Key Witch in the future. Should you choose to remain a witch after your seven year trial period, we would be glad to accept you as a Key Witch.

            Also included in this letter should be 500 Magi. It is an enchanted bill that when used in your local bank, should allow you to access your bank account. We've deposited the amount of money from your ancestor's bank accounts as well as the profit you or your familiar have amounted. A basic beginner's magic kit should be given to you when you unlock your bank.

            Once again, happy birthday Tadashi Hamada. Thank you for your participation in the world of the witches, and congratulations on the role of Head Witch of San Fransokyo.

            The Witch Council.”

 

            Tadashi gaped as the blue ball began to diminish, and with it, the confetti that had fallen all over his bed. In mere seconds, all signs of magic had disappeared, and on his bed sat a neatly folded letter with a cracked wax seal. Mochi let out a yawn as he stretched his back, and padded over to Tadashi.

            “Congrats, kid. Welcome to the world of the Witches. Let's go shopping on Sunday, hey? I want some new fairy roots.” Mochi grinned cheekily at Tadashi as he swished his tail from side to side. Tadashi turned from the letter on the bed to Mochi, then back to the letter, then to the wand still gripped in his hand. In the background, the clock beeped twelve.

            “...Unbelievable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seryuu is an edited bot from Rikkamaru's fic Legacy (which is awesome and you should totally check it out!). The bots actually have nothing in common other than being sentient and bots that interact with Hiro's bot fighting but... it's kinda sorta similar if you think hard enough? 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who kudo'd! :)


	3. Presents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mochi dimly realizes that for once, he’s way over his head in this. One person a witch does not make.  
> Time to call in some friends."
> 
> In which Tadashi is supposed to go shopping but does not. A grouchy devil is introduced. Mochi is catty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short because it and the next chapter are one. It's cut short because it felt like too much was being shoved into one chapter.

Now that the Council of Witches have officially contacted him, Tadashi gets messages every daily from Mochi. “So-and-so heard about you and wishes you luck”“Witch #5 says that you should consider crafting as your main role” “Witches 9-12 want you to die because you might become a key witch”. The messages come and go, because no one is careless enough to actually go for Tadashi when he hasn't actually left the non-magic world yet. He's still Tadashi Hamada, older brother of Hiro and adopted son of Aunt Cass, student of SFIT working on Baymax.

            The few messages that are of importance are from the Council of Witches themselves. The first one was an official documentation of his official Witch status and Mochi's familiar status. That was a fun little gift, because Tadashi discovered on the third page of Mochi's paperwork was that not only had the cat been caught stealing food from higher up witches, but that Mochi had then turned himself into a human form to escape and mooch food from girls in dance clubs. Tadashi had ended up stifling his laughter in class, and after nearly getting caught, decided that it was best to save the documents for private reading only.

            The second message came as a gift. Mochi came in with another neatly wrapped package in his mouth five days after Tadashi's birthday, and Tadashi was surprised to see another letter. This one was much more concise than the first, simply outlining basic witch needs that he would have to stock up on. After finishing the letter, Tadashi turned to the small package that the letter had come with. It was brown with black polka dots, and after unwrapping it Tadashi was surprised to find a necklace with various pendants hanging off of it. In the centerpiece, was a circular pendant with the letter H engraved in it, and large  wings on either side. Mochi had revealed that the necklace had a protection charm casted on it, and the pendants were charmed with individual abilities. Most of them were just other barriers for physical force, air force, gravity, and other possible factors.

            Chuckling lightly, Tadashi had dismissed the thought of needing the necklace for a while. Though he wasn't too certain how he felt about disappearance, he knew enough to understand that it was a process that required effort from all parties involved. Though it traditionally occurred on the eighteenth birthday of the witch to transfer to a magical household or begin official witch duties, his date was yet to be determined. The thought of disappearing with no prior preparation nagged at him; if there was anything Tadashi wanted to avoid, it would be abandoning his family and friends.

            It was the third gift that was the start of everything. Mochi had taken to following Tadashi around, though Tadashi mostly shooed away the cat while waiting tables for Aunt Cass. But Mochi was insistent, hanging around and grinning as Tadashi stumbled over his back. A clatter of plates later, Aunt Cass had ordered Tadashi to take Mochi out for a walk.

            “Well?” Tadashi asked, raising an eyebrow at Mochi as the cat pawed forward. The cat brayed in response, causing a few turned heads, and Tadashi flushed when a few of those heads refocused their attention to him. At least two groups whistled appreciatively, and he grabbed the front of his cap to cover his eyes.

            The sound of low chuckling from Mochi diverted Tadashi's attention, and he focused on shooting a look at Mochi. He did not appreciate being used as “eye candy”, and with a nod to Mochi, they began to pick up the speed.

            Mochi seemed to be wandering aimlessly. The cat walked around a corner, then made a circle around a telephone pole and refused to move until Tadashi did the same. Bump the mailbox two blocks down with the right hip. The bakery on the corner of 7th and KuroNeko got three rhythmic taps on the glass window. A right turn around the bend of Sally's Emporium. Tadashi crossed the same McDonalds three times before Mochi took a different route. Past the bustling people, the large signs and the glass panes. Past the old women and men, the college kids and the enthusiastic children.

            They walked.

            Eventually, Mochi came to a slow stop. Tadashi paused a few feet behind the cat, uncertain whether the stop was because he did something wrong (like not turning around the pole for the second time) or whether the pair had finally arrived to wherever Mochi was taking him. Mochi mewled at Tadashi, then raised his stubby tail and marched right into a small wooden shack. It took Tadashi a glance to realize exactly where he was, and when it registered he had a double-take.

            They were in front of SFIT's Management department. Well, not exactly in front; Tadashi eyed the crowd of students chatting in the luscious gardens and with a slow widening of eyes, realized that not one student had bothered to look over to him. With a slow step, he turned to the shack and entered.

            Tadashi wasn't sure what he had been expecting in the wooden shack, but he certainly hadn't been expecting a... bank? Sure enough, there was a statue of the globe behind a glossy gold and white counter reading “World's finest and fastest bank”, where three receptionists sat. There were lines in front of each, and Tadashi noted that for a tiny building that he had never seen before, there were an awful lot of people inside the building. He wondered where exactly had all these people come from, when a voice besides him voiced its opinion.

            “Excuse me, dear sir,” the voice was dripping with sarcasm, and Tadashi turned to greet it with a raised eyebrow, “but you're blocking the entrance. Would you be so kind as to move out of the way?” Tadashi's reply died in his throat when he registered what was in front of him. Rather than a person, perhaps dressed in uniform of the bank, he saw a small red skinned girl glaring up at him. She must have been no older than eight, judging from her height and chubby cheeks; what really caught Tadashi's attention were the curled red horns peeking out from under silver colored hair, and the small devil wings and tails peeking out from her strapless dress. Realizing where he was looking, the small demon girl let out a flustered gasp.

            “W-Where do you think you're looking? I'm not ready for sex yet, so don't even think of taking me! Demon!” she hissed, and Tadashi felt his cheeks redden as he gestured wildly with his hands.

            “No! No, I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking anything like that! Honest!” He gasped out, slightly shell-shocked at the fact that someone who appeared so young was so open about the possibility of him having sexual thoughts about her. Unconvinced, she seethed while crossing her arms, and spread her wings. However, they barely elongated past what he assumed her arm length would be, and the menacing mood was lost.

            “Look, if you're not going to sent in some cash or stuff for storage, then get lost buster! The exit is that-a-way!” She snapped, flapping her wings once. With a huff, she reared back as if preparing to push Tadashi out the door, but then thought otherwise. As she moved, a jingling sound filled the air, and Tadashi realized that it came from the girl.

            Dangling from her horns, her wings and even her tails- her neck, pointed ears, hands, feet, forehead... jewelry. Yellow gold chains layered over more chains, and Tadashi winced when he thought of how painful the large amulet hanging from her forehead must have been to get. Even now, he could see it tugging slightly at the skin, and the thought of her putting herself in pain like that was horrifying. Where had she gotten all this jewelry?

            “She's not what you think she is. She's an imp- probably around forty years of age. She's just wearing that skin to appeal to customers,” Mochi spoke up from behind Tadashi. Tadashi blinked for a moment, and when Mochi's words registered, he turned to gape at the girl. That girl was forty? Really? She barely reached his hips!

            “Watch it, cat. I'm still plenty young,” she huffed, then turned to Tadashi with a grin that revealed a double row of sharp (dangerous, his mind supplied) teeth, “well then boy, if you've got that kind of monster with you, you're no ordinary kid. But I haven't seen you round, and I know every thing that passes through that door. So, what'll it be?”

            Now slightly less panicked that he wasn't going to end up being kicked out of the building, Tadashi gave Mochi an apprehensive look. Mochi hadn't revealed what the two were going to be doing when they reached their destination, and knowing that it was a bank with a demon receptionist didn't aid as much as Tadashi hoped it would. With an exasperated huff, Mochi moved forward.

            “Give him a break- he's the new witch on the block. We're here to open his account and pick up some things from the WC. And,” Tadashi never knew Mochi could sound sultry, and he immediately decided that he never wanted to hear it again, “if it's that bad, then I'll be sure to make it up to you.” The receptionist smiled too, thin lipped with hooded curiosity, and if Tadashi hadn't already been planning to forget that moment then he would have promptly walked out of the building.

            “Well, come on then. I know just the vault- it's not a typical day when a witch appears in an abandoned city. Especially so recently after a hunt,” her voice dropped as she spoke, and Tadashi strained to hear her last words. She turned on her heel and began walking towards a hall hidden in the back, Mochi paused to give Tadashi a nod before following the girl. Still confused about her statement, Tadashi followed.

            Despite the main waiting room being well-established, the hall the girl brought them in was nothing like that. The room Tadashi entered in the shack was sparkling and large- a chandelier hung over, the receptionist desk was glossy, the walls arranged in white with molding at the top and bottom, a pointed ceiling and polished black and navy chairs and desks littered the sides of the main floor. The hall that Tadashi was entering? Peeling wallpaper on the wall, faded to the point of muddled grey, and uncleared dirt ground. The ceiling hummed with what he assumed to be the air conditioner, and he winced when he realized that the ceiling was nothing more than dirt packed tightly above wooden racks.

            “Name's Shedim Sharlee. You can just refer to me as Lee though, seeing as I haven't risen just yet,” the girl in front spoke, tail flicking from side to side as she walked. Unlike Gogo who stalked forward with purpose in her eyes, or Honey Lemon who skipped over with raised arms, Sharlee simply walked in line. Casting an uncertain final glance at his surroundings, Tadashi hurried forward after Sharlee and Mochi.

            “Where are we going...?” Tadashi mumbled, mostly to himself, as he eyed Sharlee's tail. It was forked at the tip, and there appeared to be a row of seven studded piercings in a line from the tip to two inches down. Directly below those was a curled cord painted gold (or perhaps gold?) hanging limply from the last stud, and then right where the tail tucked itself under her dress (and didn't that make Tadashi feel guilty for looking) sat a shiny silver bangle. Uncomfortably, he fingers the necklace hidden beneath the collar of his shirt. There's been no purpose for it so far in terms of actual danger, but better safe than sorry.

            “Vault. It's your personal storage area, accessible at any of our locations. Well, the Councils can put stuff in and check on it, so it's not completely personal, but it's alright,” then, casting a glance in Tadashi's direction, “better than any of your human storage systems anyway. We certainly wouldn't lose anything in a little fire like your kind would.” Tadashi flinched at the sharp tone in Sharlee's voice. She wasn't entirely wrong- money often literally went up in flames when transferring cash in cars, and people often used machines and computers to transfer money anyway. Still, he ached to speak back to defend some of humanity's choices.

            “Well, humans have their strange ways of arranging order. It's not always so bad, Lee,” Mochi interfered before Tadashi could. Giving the two a suspicious glance, Sharlee rolled her eyes before marching forward faster than before. Despite walking for several minutes now, Tadashi had yet to see any doors, windows, or any sign of an exit. In fact, despite the hall being illuminated enough for him to clearly see what was ahead, Tadashi could not see a light source. When he voiced his questions, Sharlee coughed out a laugh.

            “You really are new to this, huh? Well, the reason that your vault hasn't appeared yet is because you aren't looking for it,” She pointedly ignored the incredulous look Tadashi tossed her way, “You need to think. You need to want what's in it, want it to appear. I just need to drag you around enough until you bother to want it.” Pride filled her voice, as if walking around aimlessly was the highlight of her work day. And maybe it was, Tadashi didn't know. But it didn't make sense.

            “We can't make things come out of air, but there's way too much storage to just go through it all. You can't just come in and think that you want the richest person's bank account and get it like that. You need to know it, want what's in it and pull it towards you.” She gave Tadashi's befuddled look a glare and toed the wall with a sigh, “It's not going to come out so easily. You can only see because you assumed that there would be light. There's nothing appealing in this hall because you didn't think there would be. We aren't at the vault yet because you think it's not that easy to get there. Look, all you have to do,” she grasped his right hand in between hers, and arched her feet to give her a few bonus centimeters of height, “is believe.”

            “It still doesn't make sense.” Tadashi responded, but it sounded feeble even to his ears. Magic has few rules, but it's number one rule is that it doesn't follow rules. It's perfectly reasonable that the same source of energy that allows Tadashi to organize his pens and books with closed eyes can also bring up a vault to his front. He doesn't need to see to know that it's happening when he's in his room, it shouldn't be so hard here either.

            With a slow nod, Tadashi straightened his back and let his eyes slide shut. Almost immediately, he felt Sherlee let go of his hand and moved back. The hairs on the back of his neck rise, but he pointedly ignored their stares. One arm reached out to the dirt wall, and it was a dirt wall, but it could also be more. Tadashi envisioned himself at eight, in the room with Hiro playing with spare robot parts.

            Hiro had tripped over the parts and fell to the floor, laughing wildly despite the blood beginning to run down the side of his face. Tadashi had been horrified, yelping a high pitched shriek that only caused Hiro to laugh harder. Aunt Cass had worriedly called out to them, but Tadashi had replied that it was fine on instinct before turning back to Hiro and panicking, because no, it certainly was not fine.

            The skin had been sliced open under a bundle of hair on Hiro's head. Tadashi had crawled over slowly, pulling Hiro close and examining the source of the blood. Hiro was still laughing now, but it sounded like hiccuping laughter, and without looking Tadashi recognized the signs of tears in Hiro's eyes. With a mumbled hiss, Tadashi pulled at Hiro's hair and stared at the gash. It wasn't very big, but he didn't want to frighten Aunt Cass with the cut and if he left it alone it could hurt Hiro.

            With that, Tadashi had jerked Hiro's head close, causing a pained yelp from his younger sibling. Avidly ignoring the wriggling and grumbles of Hiro, Tadashi sighed to himself as he smoothed out the hair matted to the spot. Blood was flowing more steadily now, but Tadashi was determined to stop it. He gripped Hiro's hair hard, forced himself to take a few steadying breaths, then raised both hands to smooth themselves over Hiro's head. A familiar pulse came from his body, traveled to his hands, and then came from his fingers to Hiro. A startled whine came from Hiro, but when Tadashi finally opened his eyes and took away his hands, he was relieved to find that the cut was gone.

            “...Huh. You're a piece of work, you know that?” A slow sigh came from Tadashi's body, drawn from his lungs, and he slowly retracted his fingers from the dirt wall. Except it wasn't almost crumbling dirt that he felt at his fingers, but cold metal with small bumps and indents. Even without opening his eyes, Tadashi knew what it looked like. White and gold, like the lobby desk, with glossy Japanese characters spelling out the Hamada name. His vault.

            “Good job, Tadashi. You've gotten much better at this,” Mochi complimented, and Tadashi gave a short bow. He hadn't been comfortable with the thought of using his abilities in public, even with the reassurance from Mochi that his job was to use it in public to aid others. But here, in front of Mochi and Sharlee, both magical beings but one a complete stranger, he could work.

            A click came from the vault, and Sharlee gave a low whistle of appreciation when she turned to the duo. The vault had opened slightly, revealing just a glimmer of what was inside. From the outside, Tadashi could see something shiny and rounded. With a nod from Sharlee, he walked forward. The metal was cool, and not as heavy as it looked to be, and a small shove had the door pushing open fully, revealing the entire interior.

            The vault didn't look much like any vault that he'd every seen. They'd only ever had a large lock in front, and the walls would forming an enclosed cube with a single stand in the middle to hold whatever crucial thing they had hidden away in the vault. Instead, Tadashi found himself staring at a mountain of... something. Lots of shiny items that Hiro would certainly love to play with. Golds, silvers, jewels and sparkling pieces of all shapes and sizes piled upon each other. What he believed to be a mirror lay on one side, and the bottom half of a trophy was buried under a long string of pearls. Small jewelry cases. A rose bouquet tied with lavender ribbon. A frame with no picture. And in the middle of the whole vault, standing upright with glory, was an ivory colored stick.

            To call it a stick wasn't exactly accurate. It was molded strangely- slim and smooth at the bottom and a slowly sloping top that was wider, flatter and had gold swirls from the sides that circled seven red stones set into the wide end. It had a thin line cut between the wide and slim end, and at a closer distance Tadashi could see that it looked like the stick could be pulled apart. But there were no hints to what it was, and though it seemed similar to the wand he had been gifted on his birthday, there was no way the object ahead of him was a wand. It was almost as tall as he was, and something that size couldn't be folded away and hidden.

            With tentative steps, Tadashi walked through the piles on the floor. He shifted uncomfortably when he spied what may have been a bra (what was that doing in here?) and tried his best to avoid stepping on what may have been priceless ornaments. Which made no sense, because this was his first ever visit to this bank, and there was no reason for him to have so many things inside. Nevertheless, he continued toeing through the pile until he reached the stick in the middle. Now closer, he could see the small ridges of the glittery gold curls and the sleek design of the... thing. It beckoned him closer, and closer, and then he saw leaning forward, hand outreached.

            The white stick felt smooth under his hand, despite the clear textural differences he could see sloping the sides. He released his hold, then closed it again to steadily lift the thing off the floor. Now that he was holding it, it felt suspiciously light and comfortable in his hand. Like it wasn't his first time holding it. A part of him ached to hold it closer, clutch it to his chest, and instinctively he did.

            Mochi gave a strangled cry when he realized what Tadashi was doing. He bolted forward, intent on knocking the staff out of Tadashi's hand. Sharlee's eyes widened when she registered Mochi's panic, and despite not knowing what was going on, she sprinted forward as well. Her shoe clattered against the plating on the vault floor, and startled by the sound, Tadashi spun around to see both of them racing forward to him. With wide eyes and a slightly opened mouth, Tadashi hugged the staff closer. A pulse was felt, and Sharlee let out a surprised screech when a blinding light came from the small stones in the staff. Then, before their eyes, the staff was gone. And with it, Tadashi.

 

            Mochi dimly realizes that for once, he’s way over his head in this. One person a witch does not make.

            Time to call in some friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to write ahead of schedule so that if I ever can't write for a week this story will still get an update. It's hard, but I'm trying my best!  
> I've reached a sort of stopping point in one part of the story's plot where I'm considering eventual (if any) meeting of Tadashi and Hiro. Any input on when readers would like them to meet/ if they even should?
> 
> As always, kudos and comments appreciate. Thank you all for checking out my story!


	4. Out of the frying pan, Into the fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He's hesitating, but it's clear what Tadashi's decision would be. When it comes to helping others, it always is.  
> Tadashi would do anything to protect his family."

Tadashi convinces Hiro to try out for SFIT. Hiro is excited, and so is Tadashi. He pushes and pulls, and Hiro comes loose from bot-fighting easily now that the thoughts of advanced robotics is dangling right in front of his eyes. They debate for four days before settling on the microbots as Hiro calls them. Tadashi doesn't mind sneaking in a few bags of gummy bears as a reward for Hiro's breakthrough, and they spend the next day laughing over old films with Aunt Cass. It's peaceful.

 

            Tadashi goes flying on week two of Hiro's Microbots project. The staff he holds is unsteady, and even with his legs clamped around them, his hands feel clammy on smooth metal and he struggles to rise above twenty feet before he's panicking. Mochi groans and huffs and pushes Tadashi, but no amount of persuading convinces him to fly properly. He does two loops on the way down to the ground, much to Mochi's amusement, and decides that he will never fly again.

 

            Tadashi flies six weeks in to Hiro's Microbots project when a mission comes up about downtown San Fransokyo. A young boy chose to mess with the wrong Kitsune, and stole the beast's Hoshi No Tama. Tadashi has to coax the boy into letting go of “the pretty shiny ball”, and returns it to the kitsune. It's his first “mission” and it only takes six minutes of actual communication. It's not until Tadashi is on the way back on his staff that Mochi reminds him that he's flying, purely on instinct, and Tadashi drops out of the sky.

            Rumors spread that the new witch is more competent than they expected. Some say he's an exotic breed, others laugh because no witch is dumb enough to come to a hunting ground like San Fransokyo. Some think the new witch is a survivor of the hunt, and silence descends when another nearly confirms it. It's unanimously decided that they won't make trouble for the new witch.

            No one notices the mint cardigan the witch wears instead of the standard uniform, or the shaky way they approach their flight vessel. Mochi, in despair because of Tadashi's aversion to flight and because of the general obliviousness of the magic beings in town, calls up the closest friend he knows to deal with the situation.

 

            Mrs. Matsuda teaches Tadashi to fly.

 

            Tadashi screams every step of the way.

           

            Week twelve comes and goes, and Tadashi doesn't do much outside of aiding Hiro in creating microbots and doing check-ups on Baymax. Aunt Cass has a favorite for every member of his group (which is quickly also becoming Hiro's group). Honey Lemon offers to take Hiro shopping, and Hiro resolutely says no.

            They spend a day in the mall anyway, and Tadashi records a video of Hiro in a pink dress for blackmail.

 

            They only have two weeks left after week thirteen passes, and Hiro gives Tadashi a worried glance. They only have one batch left to do, and the process has only gotten quicker since they began. Faster processing, better coding, and the fixed neurotransmitter is ready for action. Tadashi gives Hiro encouragement, faith and all the love he can offer. Hiro pretends to gag when Tadashi hugs him for what must be the hundredth time in the past hour.

            Hiro can't imagine a world without his brother.

 

            Week fifteen comes to an end with Hiro stuttering his way on stage. Tadashi grins, mouths “breathe” to Hiro when he glances around nervously, and whoops when his brother totally rules, just like he thought Hiro would. They are both shell-shocked when Krei offers to buy Hiro's microbots, and Tadashi can't help the way he stands protectively over Hiro for the rest of the night. They're out the door when Tadashi gestures for a moment alone with Hiro. He wants his brother to get a more personal congratulation.

 

            A fire breaks out in the showcase.

            “Someone has to help.”

 

            The fire is... well, hot. There's no way to describe it other than unbearable, tense air swirls around as the flames roar. There's sweat dripping down his brow, collecting uncomfortably where the collar of his shirt meets his neck, and he tugs off his cardigan. It's hot, scorching temperatures telling him that this is dangerous and he needs to leave. His pants feel too tight, too warm against his legs where the fire licks, but better to have blisters along his legs than burns.

            The building creaks, and he hisses when he feels the air change. It's a weird, pressured feeling, and he realizes that he had learned this before. This sort of pull can only mean one thing when combined with an inferno like this. He swallows, braves the heat, and shoves one hand down his shirt to reach for his necklace. The air is still pulling, rushing past him and he's gasping as he shifts his fingers from charm to charm. It's hard to tell the difference when there is no mirror to look at, but the texture of each is unique. The tension is only increasing, and he flinches when the air stops tugging at his clothes. He feels rather than hears the groaning sound of the building, and he scrambles to locate the charm.

            Then the air pushes rather than pulls, bringing with it not more oxygen but red hot flames. Tadashi stares, hand pulsing in the heat, as the fire comes closer. It seems to come in waves, and the first one is almost here. The building jerks and jolts, and something dislocates. Something is off.

            Tadashi feels deep ridges on the base of a leaf shape, and pulls.

            The fire washes over with a crackle, but Tadashi doesn't hear it. The ceiling snaps, and a beam comes loose from the licking flames. It comes down, directly over Tadashi.

            The sound of something snapping registers in Tadashi's mind, but he doesn't feel much other than a soft prickling feeling on his skin. Unlike the scorching flames, it's cool, like salty ocean water washing over his body. Tadashi fingers the curve of the charm, and lets go. The beam cracks neatly, falling apart into the wild flames and Tadashi stares out into the fire.

            Callaghan may be dead now, in fact it's most likely that his professor has died. The fire is monstrous, an inhumane force that Tadashi doubts an ordinary person can handle. But there's a chance Callaghan is inside, and so he pushes on.

 

            “We need to go.” Mochi repeats, glaring at Tadashi from his perch above the scorched remains of what once was the stage that Hiro stood on. Callaghan is nowhere to be seen, and despite him searching frantically, Tadashi has found no traces of the man. Instead, he's found Mochi sitting casually, with a familiar long ivory stick at his side. Tadashi glares back at Mochi.

            “We can't. Callaghan might still be in here. And Hiro- I can't just leave him.” It sounds like excuses even to Tadashi's ears. The chances of Callaghan still being alive are slim, and the chance of Tadashi saving him without magic or questions asked are even slimmer. But Professor Callaghan was always more than a professor to Tadashi- he was there to provide support, advice and meaningful suggestions whenever Tadashi needed it. Their relationship had gone from awkward idolizing student to close, almost casual friends in record time. Callaghan had recognized Tadashi for his potential, his form of genius even though he wasn't Hiro, and Tadashi would be eternally grateful for the man's trust.

            “We have to. The Council called- this is the date of your disappearance. If we don't leave now, you can kiss your future good-bye.” It's not that Tadashi doesn't understand Mochi either. He's lucky enough as it is to be able to spend extra time with Hiro. These past few months, they were a gift from the Council. And it isn't fair for Tadashi to extend the gift when it was outrageous in the first place. But Hiro is his little brother, and Tadashi can't just leave him. He can't just leave Hiro, and Aunt Cass, and Gogo and Wasabi and Honey Lemon and Fred. He can't just go. Not like this.

            “Then what will you do? Tell them the truth? Get them involved into this world, the world of magic where everything goes- including death? You're going to get them into danger Tadashi, and we both know that isn't what you want.” The words hurt, and Tadashi quivers at Mochi's accusatory tone. He knows that he's being selfish right now- he can't have it all. He can't get his cake and eat it too, he has to chose to protect his family from a distance or give up protection just to be with them a little longer. He's hesitating, but it's clear what Tadashi's decision would be. When it comes to helping others, it always is.

            “Where will I live? How will I survive? Mochi, I haven't prepared at all.” The words sound desperate, but Tadashi's running out of excuses to stall. He needs to leave Hiro some sort of message, some sort of closure. Aunt Cass deserves a last hug, and Gogo never had her race with him on a motorbike of his own. He still needs to hand in Wasabi's incident report, and Fred still has his unedited essay. Honey Lemon has pictures of him that he needs to make sure Hiro never sees and uses for blackmail. Tadashi has a _life_ , a purpose that he isn't willing to give up.

            “I've taken care of it,” comes the simple answer, and if it were anyone else Tadashi might snap and cry, “Now, what are you going to do?” Mochi gestures to the staff besides him, and rolls it forward. It's balanced precariously on the edge of the stand- if Mochi lets go it'll fall to the floor and the fire. But if Tadashi reaches and takes it, then it'll be safe. And in his hands. In his grip again.

            Tadashi ran into a fire because there was a chance that he could save Callaghan. And here, he's getting a nearly a hundred percent guarantee of being able to protect his family.

            Tadashi would do anything to protect his family.

            With unsteady hands, Tadashi reaches out and grabs the staff. It's gems glow bright, the second time it's happened since the “bank incident”, and snatches Mochi when he feels the rippling sensation begin. It rips and pulls at reality and then he's gone.

 

            On the end of week fifteen, and Hiro's entrance into SFIT, Tadashi is proclaimed dead.

 

            On the end of week fifteen, San Fransokyo gets a new protector.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really short somehow! I thought it was longer but whoops now it's not.  
> I'm still confuddled about what to do with Tadashi and Hiro. Everything movie-plot wise is figured out, and I've got 2-4 sub-events happening at the same time. Considering cutting this story short for the movie and creating a sequel to continue the story.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments appreciated! Thank you to all the readers!


	5. Days After (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a half dead guy on Mrs. Matsuda's front porch and Tadashi becomes a magical boy in costume and complains about lavender skirts.

“Unbelievable.”

            Mrs. Matsuda gives Tadashi a sunny smile from her porch as she waves. The elderly woman is clad in bright pinks and yellows, and a daisy patterned blue jacket that Honey would droll over, and is chomping away at biscuits on her table. The picture would be perfect for conveying a nice Sunday Brunch while enjoying nature, and it's horribly ironic that it's about as fair as possible from the reality of the situation.

            Mochi smirks from his curled position around Tadashi's ankles, and he briefly considers kicking a leg out just to hear the inevitable cry of rage from the cat. But Mochi hasn't done badly so far, leading Tadashi out of the fire with relative ease and maneuvering them through the crowd of people until they reached an idle spot to take off. Then Mochi began instructing Tadashi how to move, where to go, and so they flew.

            Tadashi should have recognized the directions when Mochi told him to hover lower when they neared the coffee store on 132nd street. He really should have.

            But he didn't, and that's why he's staring upwards at Mrs. Matsuda's smiling face as she enjoys a midnight snack, staff in hand and not much else. It's made worse by the fact that there is a man- a living, breathing ordinary man- sitting on the bottom of Mrs. Matsuda's porch with a sleepy content smile on his face. It's almost charming, except there is a line of red on his shirt that smells like iron even three feet away, and Tadashi resolutely decides to never mention it.

            “Ooh, Tadashi! I've been waiting for you,” and isn't that horrifying, did everyone know about his planned departure today, “Mochi, you've brought him late! I was going to show him about barriers and resetting, but Ronald was waking up and I had to do it before you got here! Really,” Mrs. Matsuda huffed, “Tadashi has so much to learn.” Tadashi isn't actually certain if he wants to learn what Mrs. Matsuda is willing to teach, because he's fairly certain that the man on the ground is still bleeding and the Witch Guidebook explicitly states that resetting cycles is something that must only happen when in tune with a familiar. Who Mrs. Matsuda has none, which only makes the matter more unsettling.

            “We're not that late, Momo. Besides, Tadashi took a while to convince,” the look Mrs. Matsuda gives him is the same sympathetic he's used to receiving when telling the woman about his problems in college, but this time he tenses at the look. His grip on the staff tightens, and he can't stop the slight quiver in his legs. The day's been a whirlwind, from Hiro's letter to the fire to coming to Mrs. Matsuda's front porch and finding an unconscious man bleeding out.

            “Look, Mrs. Matsuda, I appreciate the offer, really! But I can't, I don't have anything on me. I can't stay with you.” That's the problem. In a normal circumstance, Tadashi hardly ever slept over due to the amount of dinner activity the Lucky Cat Cafe received on weekend nights, and Tadashi wouldn't dare sleep over someone's house when he could be working on a project or assisting Aunt Cass. Even on days when he wouldn't go home simply because he worked through the night or nearly through, he'd simply toss himself onto the couch and sleep. And usually, Gogo would join him.

            But living with Mrs. Matsuda? It's impossible, especially given the circumstances. Mrs. Matsuda lives a mostly normal life now, and enjoys blogging about flowers and recipes and taking Instagram pictures of Lucky Cat Cafe food. And Tadashi is head-first into a world of magic that he hasn't really acknowledged for the past two months, and really, the majority of his adolescence. The thought of imposing like this ignites protest in every fiber of his being.

            “It's fine, Tadashi. I welcome you! We can go shopping for your necessities tomorrow! I can help you with your flight practice if you still need it, and I have the loveliest collection of spell books, and...” Tadashi takes to tuning out Mrs. Matsuda's words to panic. Basic necessities. With a panicked look to both hands and then to Mochi, who obviously can not hide anything in his fur, Tadashi belatedly realizes that he has nothing on hand right now. Nothing. No toothbrush, toothpaste, food, money... absolutely nothing. All he has is the seared clothes hanging off him, the staff in his hand and the necklace that he's been taken to wearing around. Even his hat is gone; it must have fallen off at some point when he ran into the building.

            “I really... can't,” Tadashi manages to get out, ignoring how high his voice hits as the panic begins to settle in stronger, “I really, really need to get my stuff. Really. It's important. And don't worry, I'll find a hotel or something tonight!” Tadashi's envisioning the SFIT lab couch right now, with it's plush cushions and the ability to recline the chair to whatever angle he desired. There were blankets in the lab too, so he could grab a few if he were tired. But he really needed some semblance of home right now, in his torn clothes and burned body, and Mrs. Matsuda's house isn't going to give him any hint of home outside of food.

            “We can't.” Mochi's tone sounds accusatory, “Tadashi, I'll go get your stuff. You stay here- Watch him, Momo. Make sure he doesn't get hurt.” With that, Mochi releases his hold on Tadashi's legs and sprints off. A protest rises in Tadashi's throat, but it lodges itself firmly halfway when Mochi disappears from sight into the shadows of the alley. Slowly, Tadashi revolves his head to face Mrs. Matsuda. She grins at him from her porch, lemon cream biscuit in hand as she waves invitingly. Tadashi pales.

            It's going to be a long night.

            Mrs. Matsuda stocks her house with pastries and paintings and paintings of pastries. Green tea sits invitingly in a cup placed in front of Tadashi, and he tries his best to stay focused on the cup rather than the cakes on the wall that have, somehow, reached out over the frames to drool at him. At least two have been mumbling about a meal, about how it preferred undeveloped meat over mature meat since the older kind was too fatty; Tadashi stiffens at the conversation and does his best to tune out the whispers. He reaches for the teacup, lifts it with a shaky hand, and holds it to his lip. Better to look preoccupied than look a target for carnivorous paintings.

             “Would you like some cake?” Mrs. Matsuda's voice floats over from the kitchen. It lays diagonally from the living room that Tadashi has been put in, and he shakes his head. There's no response, only a repeat of the question, and Tadashi shakes his head harder. No, he doesn't want any cake. He doesn't want the cake Mrs. Matsuda has, or the ones peering perversely on the wall. He wants Aunt Cass' cakes, with kiwi cut on top and chocolate sprinkles over sponge cake, and to sit and eat with his family. He wants Mochi to come back with Tadashi's things. He wants to be home.

            “Tadashi?” This time, Tadashi jerks his head up. Mrs. Matsuda glances at him worriedly, with a plate of strawberry shortcake in her hand. It's neatly cut and smells fresh, but the scent causes a mixture of disgust and hunger in his stomach. He's really not in the mood for food.

            “Tadashi, are you alright?” He nods once, glancing back to the cup still in his hands. It's white with pink flowers. Are they roses? He has never been good with flower symbolism without a handbook, but Hiro didn't understand them either. They had spent one evening laughing over ridiculous meanings in a book, and Aunt Cass had dragged them to the kitchen to eat.

            “Tadashi.” The voice is sharper this time, and Tadashi twitches. The movement causes the tea in the cup to wobble, and Tadashi quickly sets it onto the table. The liquid moves along the edge, nearly tipping over, but stops just at the side. With quick breaths, Tadashi wills the tea to settle and watches until it does. Satisfied, he turns to Mrs. Matsuda.

            She's looking at the tea, then to him, then back at the tea and finally settling for staring at him. Tadashi furrows his eyebrows and angles his head, giving her a confused look. The strawberry shortcake is set onto the table, and then Mrs. Matsuda is coming closer. She's settling on the same couch as Tadashi, and he can't help the stiffening of his shoulders. It feels weird, being this worried over someone else. He would have been fine only a few hours ago, he was fine just a few hours ago. But now he's not.

            “I went to Little Witch Academy when I was seventeen. I was terrible at casting spells, you know. Blamed my wand the whole time even though it was the standard everyone else was using. Silver crafted. I wasn't half as bad with potions, though they were considered old-fashioned even at my time. Today, few people bother with potion making, even experienced witches. You know, I preferred potions more than anything...” Tadashi turned to Mrs. Matsuda curiously. He wasn't aware that potions were considered obscure- in this time shopping with Mochi, he'd seen more than enough stands carrying variations of bewitched drinks. Turning to him, Mrs. Matsuda smiled impishly.

            “I was quite a trouble-maker your age, you know. Back then, I was the rowdiest witch around!” Mrs. Matsuda laughs, nudging Tadashi with her elbow, “Oh, it was hard. The teachers were the meanest I could ever recall... and scary too! Though, I must have ended up fifty times scarier haha.” Mrs. Matsuda shifted her body to Tadashi and slowly, hesitantly, lay her hand on top of his. Her hand is warm, Tadashi notes. “You know, I thought I would flunk right out of school. Have to go to a normal college, get an ordinary job. But I hung in there. I tried my best, and when finals came around I aced my tests. Well, not aced... but I did enough to pass. And Tadashi, that's all I needed.

            “You're still young. This is still new to you. And that's okay- if you need time, then you need time. By gosh, I needed plenty of it!” Mrs. Matsuda laughed again, shoulder shaking with the intensity of her glee and Tadashi cracked a smile at her enthusiasm. “There, just look, Tadashi. Sometimes life doesn't go your way, and obstacles come on, but you need to be able to work around them. You need to figure things out. Is this- is this right? Do you understand?” Mrs. Matsuda glanced at Tadashi nervously, mouth pinched in a tight smile. She hadn't had to give advice since teaching at the academy; she dearly hoped that this would work.

            Tadashi bit his lip nervously, looking at Mrs. Matsuda. She was right- he hadn't been prepared for the fire today, or Mochi appearing from nothing to conduct his departure. He had planned on returning home with Hiro after the ceremony, hanging together with Aunt Cass and partying with his friends. But now, he was here in another person's house, waiting for his cat- and really, he was waiting on a cat- for basic supplies; together, it was all a bit overwhelming. His nerves must have shown on his face, because Mrs. Matsuda gave a low intake of breath.

            “Tadashi, dear, listen. It's hard, and it's going to stay hard for a while. But you mustn't worry! It'll be alright. We'll be fine, you're going to be fine. Tadashi, you'll be fine.” Mrs. Matsuda emphasized, cupping Tadashi's hands in her own. His skin is colder than her own, though not unhealthy so, and she gives a sympathetic squeeze. The boy in front of her, and really, he was still a child, looked so out of his element here. None of that energy he presented at the cafe, laughing and ducking out of his Cass' reach and nuzzling his brother affectionately. Her heart twinged for Tadashi. “Tadashi, we just have to think this through. We just need to-”

            “Look for a new angle. We need to look for a new angle.” Tadashi interrupted, turning his gaze to meet Mrs. Matsuda, eyes wide. His hands clenched between her own, and with a fire that hadn't been there just seconds ago, Tadashi stood. “I need to look for a new angle. I need to think.” Todashi nodded to himself, and turned to Mrs. Matsuda. “Mrs. Matsuda, I need to borrow something from you. Do you have a private area- enclosed? Corner maybe? Anything private.”

            “I-Yes. Right behind the kitchen, there, there's a study room that I never really use, but Tadashi, are you sure that-”

            “Thanks, Mrs. Matsuda!” Her eyes widened when Tadashi spun on his heel and headed out of the room. Blinking owlishly at his sudden burst of energy, she barely registered the familiar sound of padded feet over her carpet. Mrs. Matsuda turned to meet a bemused Bobtail cat sitting on the floor, a key hanging of a cord tied around his neck. Sighing, she shook one hand to the direction that Tadashi had gone.

            “Mochi, next time you bring a stray to my house, I expect a fair warning beforehand. You're going to stress the poor boy out.”

            “Sorry Momo.” Mochi didn't sound sorry, “next time, I'll tell you. But think about it this way- at least he's moving now. You did a fine job.” Huffing, Mrs. Matsuda turned to the study that Tadashi had gone. She hadn't known of either of the Hamada brothers inheriting their father's magic until recently when rumors arose in the city about a new witch and Mochi had approached her about flying lessons. If Hiro would end up awakening too, she's not sure what she would do. Move, probably.

            “So long as you take better care of him. He's your charge you know, damn cat,” the insult was too light to warrant any harm, and Mochi gave a pleased mewl at the tone, “I'll take him out tomorrow. And Mochi-” the cat cocked his head in her direction, “if Hiro turns out a witch, I'm turning you over to the council.” Slightly miffed, the bobtail hunched his back and raised his tail.

            “Understood.”

 

            “I'm not going to wear that.” Tadashi stares at the outfit displayed on his temporary bed, and at the smirking cat seated next to it. Said cat flicks his tail with amusement, and paws at the sleeve of the outfit.

            “What's wrong? Don't you want to be recognized as a witch?” Mochi replies smoothly, lifting the cool fabric of the sleeve. It's well made; his claws don't make so much a tug in the material. “Witches have to wear this uniform. It's made to protect you.”

            “I'm not wearing it,” Tadashi shuffles closer to the edge of the bed, and begrudgingly pokes at the clothing, “Look at this.” He gingerly lifts the collar of the shirt. Tied loosely around the middle is an innocent looking ribbon, printed in gingham lavender. It would be fine, if it wasn't tied into a giant bow. “It's... it's girly. And I'd look terrible in it. Mochi, isn't there anything else? I know you brought more than one pair of clothes!”

            “I did,” Mochi admits, flickering his eyes at Tadashi. “Too bad I'm not getting them until you've tried on each uniform.” He ignores Tadashi's groan in reply. “I need to know if they fit, Tadashi.”

            “It's magic clothing. We can enchant them to fit if needed. Mochi, what's wrong with my normal clothes? You didn't say anything before!”

            “We didn't have clothes ready before. And had we, I wouldn't dare let you out in your clothes on a mission. You're lucky it was a diplomatic one, otherwise you could have ended up burning your clothes right off.” The thought is amusing, even more so when Tadashi stutters and wraps his arms around himself protectively. But Mochi does have a point, even if Tadashi is hesitant to admit it.

            When Mochi had stormed into his room with a “Mission! Quick!”, Tadashi had panicked. He wasn't even aware that he had duties until his disappearance, so needless to say he was far from prepared. In the middle of studying for Mrs. Carpenter's test actually. With a hasty check of his wand tucked away into his pocket (it was retractable- thank goodness. Three squeezes of the handle and the wand went away), Tadashi had followed Mochi to the garage.

            Mochi had evidently prepared for any possible event, because Tadashi's staff was floating even before he entered the room. A belt hung loosely from the front, and Tadashi quickly grabbed it and secured it around his hips. The belt had three front departments on the right, and two on the left for easy carrying. A single holder on the left was for the wand, and the back was equipped with clips to hang any miscellaneous items. Done with his preparations, Tadashi quickly mounted onto the broomstick (ignoring the heavy thudding of his heart), grabbed Mochi, and flew off.

            It had been risky to just go like that, but the garage was turned to the side and they were surrounded by enough trees to be protected for the mounting. The problem was following Mochi's directions; there was a reason witches liked to be hidden in the shadows of the night when going off. But an emergency was an emergency, and so with a clumsy yelp, Tadashi had flew off.

            After they had arrived, Tadashi was confronted with a situation that he never connected to witches. He was so certain that missions meant action, danger and conflict. That had been what Mochi had prepared him for- magic disruptions that caused danger to the people. But in this case, all he had was a stubborn, teary boy clutching to a hoshi no tama and a very, very irritated kitsune hissing at said boy. Tadashi had exchanged nervous glances at Mochi, and when he confirmed that yes, his mission was to return the hoshi no tama, he gave a sigh.

            It hadn't taken long to coax the boy into trading his “glowing ball” for the promise of candy, and Tadashi had retrieved and returned the life stone with little effort. It seemed that his practice in taking care of Hiro paid off, because the kitsune had simply left seconds later and Tadashi did buy the boy a few chocolate bars as promised. A call to the police later about a missing child, Tadashi was relieved to see the boy's parents pick him up with teary and worried faces. A reunion later, Tadashi had returned home (and he was alright at flying until Mochi reminded him, that cat).

            All in all, it had been a successful mission. Tadashi had completed it with no need for magic other than transportation, and he certainly didn't need any fancy clothes to do his job. With a raised eyebrow at the clothing set in front of him, Tadashi hesitates. Had it been a mission involving magic, he could easily imagine ripped clothing and injuries due to a general lack of protection. But didn't the council have anything... with more coverage?

            “No.” Mochi responded to Tadashi's question with a blank stare. “Witches aren't primarily female, but most of the clothing is slightly suited to the female body since they tend to be more powerful than male witches. There's a reason that nearly eighty percent of Key Witches are female rather than male.” Tadashi pouts in reply, poking again at the clothes laid on the bed. It's actually not too bad, and if he had gotten it months before he would have gladly traded it off to Honey. She would look good in it.

            Instead, he's stuck examining something that looks suspiciously like a two piece skirt suit. The top is a blouse with a pointed collar, a giant bow tied underneath that's slightly floppy, and sleeves that end in a puffy shape. It's actually not too bad, and if it came in brown or green instead of purple and white Tadashi would probably be more accepting of it. Minus the bow. There's a jacket laid over it, and Tadashi has no problems with the jacket. Tadashi looks good in pastels, especially when paired with striking neutrals (as Honey informed him), and the blazer cut of the jacket helps. Even the matching legwear presented, (and was there even a need for that? This outfit is for dangerous events, not fashion shows) knee high striped socks, was passable in his book.

            The problem was largely the pants. Or rather, the lack of them. Layers and layers of a light, translucent fabric (chiffon? Tulle? He knows this- Honey Lemon wears it all the time) interlocking together until it reaches about ankle length. How is he supposed to fight in this thing? It's so sheer that he doubts it will actually cover anything, and the length means less flexibility than he would desire. Mixed martial arts has taught him that punches alone won't work, and kicks were even more important since the opponent hardly kept track of the legs. Which only meant that this.... skirt (and how it pained him to say it) was even less useful than he could have imagined.

            “Can't I get pants with this? Girls do wear pants- ask Gogo!” Tadashi pleads to Mochi, scrunching up the skirt ruffles as he shakes it in the cat's direction. “Can Gogo be my fashion bottom line? Please?” To be honest, Tadashi would wear things that Gogo wouldn't, but it's better to be safe than sorry when the first thing Mochi presents him with is a princess looking skirt.

            “Nope,” the cat is too smug for his own good, “Now put it on so we can move you on to the next set. Which might have pants.” It's not a guarantee, that much is clear.

            With a groan, Tadashi strips.

 

            The skirt thing hugs his hips nicely, and Tadashi hates to admit that the blazer pairs well with the light material. It's actually not quite a skirt- underneath the layers was a pair of connected pants. It's still slightly embarrassing to put on, but Tadashi allows himself a quick twirl. The fabric of the skirt flutters up, and reveals some sort of shiny fabric underneath the ruffles that shine when they catch the light. Okay, maybe the skirt is a little awesome.

            The next outfit does not have pants (at least, not full ones) and Tadashi gives Mochi a half-hearted glare. The next one has a cape thing (it's actually really cool and reaches his thighs. And it's warm) and semi-pants again under a wide skirt. There's shoes with this one too, which earns Mochi a raised eyebrow, and then Tadashi puts the whole outfit on. It's the same color scheme, white with purple, but easier to manage with the clear separation of top to bottom.

            The third outfit, to Tadashi's relief, does have pants. Slim-fitting and a worthy challenge to the usual skinny jeans he buys; the pants cling to his skin. The top is a bit frillier than the earlier ones, as if to compensate, but Tadashi doesn't mind the turtleneck with star cut-outs, nor the heart knit pattern. It's paired with another jacket, not a blazer but a hoodie, and Tadashi notes that that next year he's buying Hiro a set like this for his birthday. The possibility of him not giving Hiro a gift doesn't register, and he's putting on the next outfit before the thought can settle in.

            Tadashi discovers that he can change the colors of his clothes with a simple charm and then bewitches about half his new wardrobe to mints and browns with red. Mochi eventually stops him when he debates about how well grey looks with lavender.

 

            Mochi goes home for the night, and it pains Tadashi that he can't go with him.

 

            Tadashi tries on clothes and makes new outfits. He reads up on the witch guidebook, even though he's gone through it three times now. He practices enchanting out the window, and even goes through the stuff Mochi had brought over. He changes into his pajamas, then switches out for another pair, then another. He checks his phone and sees missed calls and messages from his friends, from Aunt Cass, and from Hiro. He sets his phone down, and goes online to see if his professors have updated the homework.

            Tadashi doesn't sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day's After will have 2 parts. Part one (this one) is more about Tadashi, and Part two (next chapter) will give some information on Hiro and how he's dealing with things.  
> The rest of BH6 will actually have roles to play in this, don't worry. But that comes a bit later...


	6. Days After (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second part of Days After.
> 
> "Hiro is broken. Tadashi is breaking. It's scary."  
> In which the boys have to deal with separation.

Mrs. Matsuda brings him food everyday, three times a day, but it's not the same as Aunt Cass'. Nothing is, really. The room he's been placed in is too big. The cabinets are wide and filled with clothes that are now “his” (they haven't passed Honey Lemon's test yet), and under the bed are boxes of witch-related items Mochi had brought with him. The bed covers are wide and hot, and the bed he sleeps on is too large. The books in his room range from literature that he reads for class to textbooks about potions and charms and one about dealing with entering the witch world (which he pointedly ignores).

            It's not right. He glances around the room, and pinches at the jeans he wears. The blazer feels heavy on his body, even though it fit fine a few weeks before when he went to school with Gogo and Honey and Wasabi and Fred. The necklace weighs him down, and he wants to remove it. It prickles against his skin, and only sheer stubbornness stops him from pulling it off and snapping the chain binding the charms together.

            He should be with Hiro. He should be at SFIT with his little brother. He should be introducing Hiro to the campus. They should be eating Aunt Cass' sandwiches in front of the Biology Department, where there are cherry blossom trees and a calming atmosphere. They could be talking over a bowl of too spicy ramen at the fusion Thai, Japanese and Mexican restuarant two blocks from campus. Fred could be spilling soup over the bowl as Wasabi cleans him furiously, then goes back to meticulously dividing his lunch for perfectly portioned bites. Honey Lemon takes pictures of her lunch, then her friend's lunch, then her and her friends. Gogo sticks her gum to the rim of the bowl and downs a third of her soup before she starts on the noodles, leaving the stray mushroom pieces that always end in her bowl for last.

            But he's not. He's sitting in a room that's not his and staring at a wall that's not his. Everything here is wrong. He knows it. Yet, he stays, picking at a blanket that isn't his and reading books that belong to someone other than him. It's not right.

            Mochi comes and goes. Tells him about Hiro staying in his room. Staring at the divider set in the middle (it was never a real divider. There was a reason that it is retractable). Hiro doesn't eat. Hiro doesn't go out. Hiro doesn't talk. Hiro stares out the window and cries into his knees.

            Hiro is broken.

            Tadashi is breaking.

            It's scary.

 

            “Get up.”

            The command is sharp, and Tadashi jerks at the tone. He gives a wide-eyed turn to Mrs. Matsuda and is greeting with a frown and hands on her hips. The former witch narrows her eyes as she looks over his state- old jeans, a loose shirt and swept hair. Unacceptable. At the lack of movement, she repeats herself.

            “Get up. I'm not saying it again.” Tadashi blinks up, and shakily, stands. It's unusual for him to see Mrs. Matsuda do anything... so aggressive. Even when he had discovered her “habit” of caring for Mr. Tanaka at night (why, he had asked, is there a unicorn hybrid living nearby and why is Mrs. Matsuda collecting his blood), she had only treated Mr. Tanaka and Tadashi with care and a smiling face. But there was no smile on her face now.

            “Come.” Mrs. Matsuda turns and walks away. Tadashi opens his mouth to object, he's comfortable where he was thank you very much, but Mrs. Matsuda is already down the hall by the time he opens his mouth. It's dry, and he can't remember the last time he willingly looked for a drink in the kitchen. He can't recall leaving his room in what feels like months, but really is days. He doesn't want to- doesn't want to see more of a place that's not home. But Mrs. Matsuda turns at the end of the hall to gesture at him, and then he's walking.

            Woah. Tadashi stares owlishly at the ground as he walks. It feels weird; it feels like he hasn't walked in days. One foot in front of the other, but it's shaky steps and his balance is tipping over. Everything is moving sideways. Isn't it?

            Mrs. Matsuda waits for him until he makes the trek to her side. Tadashi pants, even though he's not sweating and there was nothing stressful for him. His muscles don't ache, and the path is too short for it to be physically challenging. But Tadashi feels so, so tired.

            “Come on.” Mrs. Matsuda prods, but she's no longer frowning. Instead her face is set into stern determination, and Tadashi envies her for a reason that he can't think of. Mrs. Matsuda moves swiftly, her dress sweeps behind her and Tadashi steps back to avoid accidentally weighing down on the clothing. Her pace is quicker than before, and Tadashi speeds up to follow her at a distance. The sun bears down from outside the window, and Tadashi winces at the light. It feels unbearable, and prickles at his skin. He tucks his arms into each other, and hunches over to continue walking.

            Mrs. Matsuda disappears into the kitchen, and picks up a tote bag on the table. She keeps moving, past the bathroom and past the study room to the back door, and pushes it open to exit into the blinding light. Tadashi follows, noting the smell of cinnamon from the kitchen and ignoring the wide-eyed dog in a hanging picture that extends it's paw to try to cuff his head. Past the study room, with it's door ajar to reveal half-opened books and a silver quill hanging from the door handle. Tadashi walks until he too, pushes at the back door and exits the house.

            Mrs. Matsuda has about an ordinary backyard as one can imagine. There's simple grass on the ground, and the right corner has an apple tree (with no apples) and small flowers gathered at it's base. Tadashi looks at his shoes placed outside the door and reaches to slide them on. They fit comfortably, yet it feels restricting when he kneels down to tie them. Mrs. Matsuda obviously planned this out if she had his shoes out.

            Speaking of, Mrs. Matsuda stands in the center of the yard to watch Tadashi finish tying his laces. When he straightens, and gives her a deadpan look, her stern expression finally drops. She places the tote on the ground, and eyes Tadashi. Once she's certain that he's staying, she reaches into the tote to pull out-

            “Today, we're going to do surveillance duty. Normally, we do this at night, but we've been a bit busy at night recently, hmm?” In her hand are two long sticks, one which is suspiciously familiar. She grabs it and tosses it at Tadashi and pure reflexes is what saves him from a bruise on the head. Now that it's in his hand, there's no denying it. It's his staff, as bright and smooth as the day he had reached out to grab it.

            When Tadashi looks up, Mrs. Matsuda has already mounted. Her legs reach around her staff (though it has a wide end and resembles a broomstick more than a staff), and she kicks off with her left leg. Tadashi watches as she rises into the air, a vertical ascension with no fear in her stance. She's ten feet above him when she looks down.

            “Come on, Tadashi. Let's go.” Her voice is suspiciously soft compared to earlier, but it does nothing more than to relieve the tension in his shoulders. He walks forward, ignores the grass tickling his ankle, and holds out the staff. He hadn't done this in weeks, maybe months, and the fear of flying settles in again. Tadashi doesn't have a fear of height- airplanes were nothing. But this, depending on something that can't be logically explained with his life, depending on something that he doesn't know how to control outside of “feeling it”; this is scary.

            “Breathe.”

            Mrs. Matsuda hovers closer, now barely above shoulder height, and Tadashi gives a stiff nod. It's alright. He practiced before; it'll be the same thing now. One leg goes over the staff, still held tight in his right hand, and he moves his left arm to hold it too. Then he's centered on the middle of the staff, and grips it tight. The front edge goes up higher; the back end of the staff nearly hits the grass. Mrs. Matsuda doesn't waver, and simply watches as Tadashi works up the courage to move.

            “It'll be okay if I fail. It's just another test trial. That's all it is. Tadashi,” he moves one foot forward and bends his hind leg, “move.”

            Then he's flying, staff pointed upward and shooting up at a speed much faster than Mrs. Matsuda had been. Though he was no Gogo, Tadashi had always been fitted to adventure. Though it was often Hiro being caught doing something mischievous, it was also a product of Tadashi knowing how not to get caught for his tricks and when to stop. Tadashi cracks a smile at the thought of Hiro pouting when he got in trouble instead of Tadashi, but hey, big brother privileges.

            The wind ruffles his hair and Tadashi lets out a laugh. It feels good to be up high, up in the sky and staring at the wind turbines in the distance. If he wants, he can fly to meet them, touch them and create a gust challenging the wind up here. The thought is tempting, and Tadashi is moving forward with just a tap against the staff.

            “Where do you think you're going?” The voice stops Tadashi in his tracks, and when he turns to meet Mrs. Matsuda, a sheepish smile is on his face. She doesn't look pleased at his movement, but then a surprised expression crosses her face before it settles into a returning warm smile. She shifts closer on her broomstick, until she's parallel to Tadashi, and gently ruffles his hair. That elicts a soft protest from Tadashi, but she doesn't remove her hand until his hair is sufficiently messy.

            “Don't leave without me,” her tone is soft, and her eyes flutter to the side before returning to Tadashi's, “We're going to fly around and just check things out. Then we can hit the marketplace, and tomorrow night I'll have a job for you. And,” she removes her hand from his head and pats her broomstick, edging forward, “you can take the lead.”

            The hint is taken graciously; Tadashi shifts his weight forward and the staff follows his silent command. Tadashi is fairly certain visiting the wind turbines isn't patrol, but the bright colors are alluring in the blue sky. Mrs. Matsuda follows at a slower pace, watching Tadashi move. He gains speed slowly, eyes locked on his target, much to Mrs. Matsuda's amusement. Instead, she watches the city move from her height, eyeing alleyways for potential crime. It's unlikely during the day, but anything can happen.

            By the time Mrs. Matsuda turns to Tadashi, he's hovering next to a wind turbine and moving his fingers over the surface. Despite herself, she lets out a low chuckle. Tadashi smiling up in the air was a nice surprise after his pensive look at the prospect of flying, now he was spreading his fingers over the wind turbine with an awed look. Even from a shortening distance, she could almost see the calculations in his mind as he touched the machine. His smile grew as he continued moving his hands, touching pieces and rotating around the turbine to get a better look.

            “Tadashi!” Mrs. Matsuda calls out as she arrives near the wind turbine. She waits, but there was no response other than rustling wind. Confused, the former witch shifts closer to Tadashi's form. He was staring at the machinery, hands still against it.

            “Tadashi?” she prompts again, and this time Tadashi blinks and gives her a blank look. He shifts his hands on the staff, tightening his hold on the staff and pinching his legs together. Then, finally, recognition flitters on his face and he leaned forward.

            “Mrs. Matsuda? Is something wrong?” Tadashi questions, worry seeping into his voice. She blinked back at him, and promptly burst into laughter. Startled, Tadashi jerked his staff and his back hits the wind turbine, eyes widening at her laughter. “...Mrs. Matsuda?” he tries again, but she just kept laughing.

            “Sorry, sorry,” Mrs. Matsuda quieted, stifling chuckles to the back of her hand, “But Tadashi, dear, don't space out on me like that. You worried me.”

            “Sorry,” Tadashi replies, hunching his shoulder when he registered that he was the cause of Mrs. Matsuda's worry. Realizing that Tadashi was closing in on himself, Mrs. Matsuda quickly silenced her remaining giggles.

            “No, Tadashi, it's not your fault. Don't worry about it.” Mrs. Matsuda protests, cupping her hands on Tadashi's face. He jolts and turns to her, and she offers a kind smile. “Tadashi, don't worry. Really. It'll be fine, remember what you said? New... new angles?”

            There was a pause as Tadashi readjusted himself. One leg came over the edge of the staff, and he shifted his arms to move at the sides of his body. Mrs. Matsuda let go of his face and watched as he moved his weight to the center, and suddenly, swung backwards. Startled, she immediately moved down to catch him, but when no body came onto her arms she looked up to see that Tadashi was hanging onto the staff with his knees. He was staring at something past her head, but when Mrs. Matsuda turned around she saw nothing out of the ordinary.

            “Look for a new angle.” Tadashi muttered, letting his arms hang over. It was easier said than done, but the advice worked. Sighing to himself, Tadashi resigned to an hour or two of hanging and thinking of something new. He had to re-imagine his new life. It would do him no good to continue moping as he had been; he couldn't keep forcing Mrs. Matsuda to take the first step. Tomorrow he would prove himself.

            “Mrs. Matsuda, let's finish patrolling.” Tadashi blurted out. The elderly woman simply looked at him in confusion as he swung himself over the staff and took hold of it to keep himself steady. One leg  swung farther than the other, and the staff began to move.

            “Sure.” She responded, slightly lost to Tadashi's new focus. But it was better than him being holed up in his room. Surely, nothing bad could come from a little activity right?

            … Right?

 

            “Why doesn't he have adequate limiters?”

            Mochi frowned as he waved his tail from side to side. He had been late to the mission scene and came in halfway when Tadashi begun the banishment spell to keep a criminal yokai out of San Fransokyo. The yokai had a history of attacking other yokai as well as humans, and was securely locked up in jail until some criminal broke it open. Now, hundreds of spirits were running around the world committing evil deeds ranging from harmless pranks to convincing people and other spirits to become mass murderers.

            The mission had gone well even without his help. Mrs. Matsuda had taken his role as the guiding guardian and gave Tadashi directions for how he should deal with the situation. Apparently the boy had taken care of the yokai nicely; attack spells were on target, defensive spells were on reflex and he had become much better at maneuvering himself during flight. Despite him complaining about his “overly fancy new clothes”, Tadashi had moved smoothly in his new additions.

            The only problem that had come up was at the end. The yokai had no wanted to leave so easily, and resisted the banishment portal. Typically a little force was required to get the criminal in, so Mrs. Matsuda had advised Tadashi to use a simple attack spell.

            That was when everything went wrong.

            Tadashi had recited the spell correctly. His hold on the wand was steady. Even though he was standing on the staff, his stance was balanced. Yet, when he ignited the spell, instead of the narrow sparks that were expected, a rain shower of magic poured out. The spell was simply supposed to push the yokai in; what they got was a hurricane that tore down half the wall. Luckily, Mochi had reset the wall, but the current of magic was the real problem at hand.

            Beginning witches had limiters for a reason. Magic was draining on the body; it was recommended that witches had at least 1,000 calories to burn per hour per mission. Limiters aided in regulation of the amount of magic being used so that witches wouldn't drain out in the beginning, and so that they would have enough energy to get home and rest afterwards. For Tadashi, a beginning witch, to have reduced limiters was hardly heard of.

            “Can you blame the council? He's fine.” Mochi replied, flicking his tail irritably. Normally a shock wave of magic like the one Tadashi had would knock the witch out soon afterward or at least exhaust them of the majority of their strength, especially for beginning witches. Tadashi had certainly recognized the difference in power of his final spell to earlier ones, but even so the boy had shown no sign of fatigue. Instead, he seemed gleeful at completing his mission and after returning to Mrs. Matsuda's house, went straight to the study room to read up on new charms. It's worrying for both Mrs. Matsuda and Mochi that Tadashi has shown no signs of weariness.

            “It's not right,” Mrs. Matsuda insists, crossing her arms in annoyance, “Why did the Council of Witches do it? He's much too young for unregulated magic.”

            “How should I know? Why don't you ask the Council themselves, if it worries you so much?” Mochi retorts. “Besides, he's shown to be stable. He's not a pure-bred, but he does have stronger magical comprehension than the average witch.”

            “That's the problem!” Worry seeps into her tone as Mrs. Matsuda speaks, “Mochi, Tadashi can get hurt. We don't know his limits and neither does he. For all we know, he might have been displaying high levels of magical output for years! That makes him a target, Mochi.”

            The cat falls silent for a moment. Tadashi had been radiating magic after the mission; faint waves of magic that would emerge every few seconds. Magic Output could be a double-edged sword- high output usually meant a powerful witch that one was too stay away from, and low output indicated a potentially powerful witch that was weak in their current state. The problem was that hunters who tracked outputs would take high outputs as a challenge, and that meant that Tadashi could get picked as a target for a hunting group.

            There was no easy way around it. Mochi could pull a few strings and get a few temporary witches in place while Tadashi stabilizes his ability, but Tadashi wouldn't like imposing on others. No, the most realistic method of dealing with the issue was to get Tadashi trained- fast. The sooner the better, if Tadashi was to take a full-time witch job seriously.

            “We need to train him to contain his abilities. He's displayed good control in the past, we can just get him to practice with some target dummies until he's ready.” Mochi responds. It would take time, but San Fransokyo had survived so long without a head witch that they could stand to wait a little longer.

            “We could just get him limiters. Mochi, if we address the witch council with the possibility of another hunt here, they would have to give them to us.” Mrs. Matsuda states. The Council of Witches considered safety a priority, even with the diminishing number of witch-targeting hunters. They would give any amount of limiters if Mochi and Mrs. Matsuda were to approach them with the issue.

            “No,” Mochi growls, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Mrs. Matsuda as she prepares for a counter, “We won't. The Council is busy with their own things and,” he steps forward with a predatory look in his eyes, “We are never raising the topic of witch hunts in this household ever again.” Mochi accompanies his last statement with a jerk to the closed door behind the kitchen. The study room.

            The thought of forcing Tadashi to face the hunters is chilling for both, and Mrs. Matsuda gives a defeated sigh. Though she worries about Tadashi's safety in terms of control, she wouldn't dare force him into a situation against hunters. Though Tadashi was a reasonable lad, there was a reason witches were known to never forget about vengeance.

            “Fine. I'll train him to manage to abilities. But Mochi,” her tone turns sharp as steel when she tosses a look to the cat, “If a hunter so much as tries to step foot in this city, we are contacting the Council. All of the Council.” That gets a hiss from the cat, though he makes no move to fight.

            “Agreed. I'll see Tadashi in the morning. Tell him to get some sleep, he'll need it.” Mochi simply states, turning to exit the household onto the porch. He gets a loopy wave from Mr. Tanaka on the way down the stairs, and then he's padding off into the streets. By the time he's at the edge of the block and turning to give a shake of his tail to Mrs. Matsuda, the front door is shut. Fine.

            With a sigh, the cat continues his trot back to Lucky Cat Cafe. The streets are surprisingly empty for a weekday night, especially as the media hasn't finished it's craze over the fire at SFIT. Nightclubs are beginning to open, and Mochi is briefly distracted by the bright neon lights of one as a girl with purple streaks argues with the bouncer in front. A slouchy boy stands behind her, hair slicked back with blank eyes. The bouncer continues to argue, but then the boy reaches into his pocket to produce a wad of cash, and a few bills are exchanged before the pair heads inside.

            An amused chuckle comes from the cat as he continues moving. Few people roam the streets that are looking for a fight, and Mochi tries to ignore the feeling that Hiro might be one of these people. Though Mochi had never gone looking for the boy, he had been there when Tadashi had let a bit of magic flow into his machinery. Hiro's bad habit was well-known in the family.

            Thus when Mochi returned to Lucky Cat Cafe, he was both pleased and disappointed to find the lights of the boy's room on. Tadashi would be pleased to know that Hiro is staying out of trouble, but less pleased to know that the boy was drowning himself in tears and emptiness instead. Despite Mochi's efforts, Hiro did little more than acknowledge his existence.

            With a shake through the crack left at the garage door, Mochi entered the house. The smell of something spicy wafted through the air, and no smell of people. Lucky Cat Cafe hasn't opened today either- still in mourning. Though it pained Mochi to see his family so depressed over what he knew to be a lie, it was the law of things. It would be even more painful to see Cass and Hiro in a world of magic where they could do nothing. It was better to keep them safe, even though it teared at the cat's heart when Cass buried herself in movies and Hiro in nothing but the thought of Tadashi.

            True to his thoughts, Cass had fallen asleep in front of the television. With a bored movement, Mochi quickly swiped the remote and shut down the television. A look at the semi-peaceful face of Cass was enough to reassure Mochi that there would be no tears here tonight. No, his focus had to be the glowing light upstairs.

            Hiro sat on a bed with crumpled blankets and a pillow hanging off the edge. His face was blank as he huddled in his warmth, hands on knees as he stared into space. Mochi gave a mewl when he padded into the room, but if Hiro heard him he didn't react. The boy simply took in a deep breath, burying his face into the blankets wrapped around his knee.

            Sighing at the behavior of Hiro, Mochi lunged for the light switch. He took three jumps to bat at it, and by then Hiro had turned quarter way to acknowledge the cat's presence. With that recognition, Mochi turned to bound onto Tadashi's bed and gave another mewl at Hiro. The boy offered a smile in response, though it contrasted with the dead look in his eyes. One hand came up automatically to smooth over Mochi's fur, and the cat let out a pleased purr. He nudged closer to Hiro, giving the boy a soft smile. This time, the smile he received in response elicited a small light in his eyes.

            “You smell weird, Mochi.” Hiro whispers, and Mochi burrows his nose in Hiro's shirt as a reply. The boy yelps at the cold touch, and flings his arms forward to push Mochi off, but the cat stays by clinging to Tadashi's abandoned blankets. Realizing what he was doing, Hiro pushed harder, pinching at the cat's hands, eliciting a hurtful yowl from Mochi. Finally, he removed his paws from Tadashi's covers and fell to the floor.

            “Mochi!” Hiro hisses, and his eyes narrow, “Don't do that! It's Tadashi's. He'll be mad when he finds out.” The words come out smoothly, but Mochi recognizes the denial before it awns on Hiro. Frustrated, the boy grabs the abandoned pillow and flings it at the cat, before dropping down onto the bed. The blankets are mussed and books have spilled onto the floor with Hiro's tossing. Mochi gives a hiss as he paws at the edge of the mattress, but all Hiro gives him is a sharp noise in reply. Realizing that he will get nothing from the boy at his current state, Mochi stalks away.

            The cat isn't sure what he should be expecting. Tadashi pesters Mochi with updates about Hiro every time they meet, and Cass has yet to reopen the cafe. It's been perhaps two weeks now, which perhaps isn't long for mourning periods, but Mochi wishes that they would move on. It's depressing, seeing as there is no actual damage to any member of his family. Yet, looking at the now closed door of the room once shared by Hiro and Tadashi, it's clear that the supposed death has done more damage than expected.

            With a tired sigh, Mochi settles at the foot of the stairs to get some sleep. It's been a long night of checking up on everyone. In time, the funeral will be planned. Hope can not hold on forever. With that, Mochi sleeps.

            Mochi dreams of sparklers and laughter two years prior.

            Cass dreams of a black lace choker, worn at her sister's funeral.

            Hiro dreams of Tadashi.


	7. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'Tadashi is gone.'  
> That does not make logical sense. Tadashi is a perfectly healthy patient. My scans of him have provided me with information that points towards him having no clause for a premature death.  
> ....  
> The figure was so close. Had Hiro lied?"
> 
> Tadashi fights a yokai and Hiro meets Yokai. Baymax is puzzled. Callaghan forgets.

“This was much easier in storybooks,” Tadashi grumbled, leaping backwards to avoid the lumbering arm of the bejeweled yokai in front on him. The ghost monster thing was covered in sapphire stones, creating curves that went around its body until it reached the top of its head. There sat two large spiral horns, with strings of pearls and sapphires hanging off of it. The yokai would probably make a great ornament if it wasn’t for the fact that its horns were destroying anything it touched.

            As if on cue, the yokai roared and leapt forward. Its arms came crashing down first, and then it head butt straight into the building behind Tadashi. The horns slammed into the wall and broke through the brick exterior, the cement layer and past the plaster to the couch inside the home. With a furious growl, the yokai shook its head and dislodged the unwanted furniture, though cotton specks clung to the sapphires on its head.

            “Of course it’s not so easy. How many witches would we have if all you had to do is say Abra Kadabra and be done?” Mochi replied cheekily, flicking his tail in glee. The ends were forked in a now familiar motion- Mochi was regulating the area and fixing the damage the yokai was creating even as he teased his charge. Tadashi huffed in response, narrowly dodging the yokai as it prepared itself to strike again. This time, Tadashi spun on his heel, the cape he had chosen to adorn swinging with his body.

            “Okay, that’s enough. Mochi, capture when?” Tadashi shouted, waving the wand in his arm as he spoke. He had expected for the mission to last for an hour at the most, but the yokai had refused to budge the first four times that Tadashi had put a capture spell on it.

            Most yokai were kind creatures who wished to protect their family that they had left behind when coming to the spirit world. Some yokai had forgotten their memories and were “reborn” again, while others were reincarnated into spirits that acted as gods in temples. On an occasion though, a yokai would be reborn as a vengeful spirit and lash out against the living in its anger, causing destruction in its wake. It was Tadashi’s job to suppress this damage.

            Except, Tadashi noted as he gritted his teeth irritably as another spell jumped off the yokai’s body, this one was particularly stubborn. Most were willing to reason after a restraint or when a difference in power was shown, but despite Tadashi clearly cornering the yokai repeatedly, it continued to rampage. After realizing that any reason would not work on the furious being after twenty minutes of forced negotiations, Tadashi simply decided to stick to repression and capture spells. To his horror, they hadn’t worked either.

            “Keep going,” Mochi pressed from the sidelines, watching the fight with glazed eyes. “Watch the yokai and see if anything is off about it.”

“Easier said than done,” Tadashi muttered as the yokai flung its body into the wall again. The antlers crashed in and Tadashi winced at the sound of breaking… glass? Porcelain? Whatever it is, it would be a mess to clean up. Well, it would be if Mochi wasn’t guarding the area with watchful eyes.

The yokai hissed as it dislodged its head from the wall, the jewels on its antlers clanging as they swung during the motion. One string of sapphires hung considerably lower than the other, and seemed to have loosened with the continuous smacking against walls. Tadashi blinked in surprise when the yokai lumbered forward, foot stepping on the jewels and crashing forward with unsteady steps.

The yokai growled, shaking its head loose of the object holding it in place. The string dislodged itself, and fell to the floor harmlessly. The left antler stayed well-wrapped and the yokai prepared itself to charge forward again.

“Well Mochi, any commentary would be great right about- Nowahhh?!” Tadashi shrieked when the yokai charged forward at an accelerated pace, this time nearly clipping him. Unfortunately, Tadashi’s clothing wasn’t nearly as lucky, as the edge of his cape didn’t escape the crooked antlers of the yokai. With a squeak, Tadashi kicked against the wall in an attempt to loosen the hold.

The yokai was pulling out again, plaster and dust sticking to its antlers as it moved. Tadashi grunted as the cape edge finally came loose (and torn, too! That was his favorite cape!) and he spiraled forward, rolling on the ground before stepping to his feet. The world shook until he regained balance, and he gave another groan when he saw the yokai fully dislodged from the wall.

“And that, Tadashi, is why we don’t wear capes on most action missions,” Mochi commented from the sidelines, chuckling at the annoyed sigh it elicited from Tadashi. The yokai came forward again, and Tadashi dove to the side to avoid the impact. He allowed himself an amused smirk when the yokai got stuck again. That should give him a few seconds to think something through.

The cape curled around his body as he knelt in the corner, wand in front in case of the yokai recovering faster than planned. Tadashi huffed when the torn corner of the cape brushed against his calves- the tattered edges were curled inward and had what looked like cracked pieces of.... something ivory on it. Curiously, Tadashi shuffled his knees inward until the cape fell gently onto his thighs, and he could see the edge in better light.

The tattered edges were dusted with pieces of something that appear ivory. It looked crusty and worn, and though he hastily wiped some away, it clung to the fabric. That was strange, considering that the witch uniforms were meant to handle extreme emergencies- and that usually included heavy amounts of mess. With another brush, he paused as he saw the pieces cling to his glove. Not ordinary material then.

“Pay attention, Tadashi!” The warning shout was all Tadashi got before the yokai hit the corner, fists hitting the wall before the head swung in. The mouth of the yokai was curled into a dangerous smile, and Tadashi resisted the urge to flinch as he jumped left. The movement was more shaky than intended, but he managed to get out just as the yokai turned to stab him with its horns. The left one went partially into the wall, and dust from the impact scattered to the ground.

Ivory dust scattered to the ground. The source was the yokai’s horn.

It was ivory dust.

“I think I’ve got it figured out now!” Tadashi shouted to Mochi, allowing himself a grin as he readied the wand in his hand. “It’s the jewels that are suppressing the damage- the horns themselves are vulnerable to attack. I can do this. Mochi, get ready!” With that, Tadashi sprinted forward.

“Trinity Arrow!” Three bolts of light emerged from the tip of his wand, and spiraled in a line before splitting to form a cylindrical shape. The yokai readied itself for another hit, spreading its arms out to enforce its wide frame, but the arrows knew their target. Rather than hitting the yokai’s chest, it centered in to the yokai’s fragile right antler, loose of any jewels.

            The spell hit its mark, hitting the base of the antler and striking through the bony material. Tadashi let out a whoop at the sight, feeling relief that he had finally figured out a solution. The yokai, now realizing what had just occurred, flung its arms up to cover the other antler. But it was too late for any defenses.

            Tadashi straightened his back as he let familiar energy flow through him. Small attack spells were nothing more than citation; they were largely the result of the gems in the wand. Tadashi only needed to think to attack. But spells for safety, spells that required chanting and energy- those were the spells that he needed to focus on. Those were the spells he liked best.

Warmth spread through his body, moving through his bloodstream to collect in the palm of his hand. Then the current pushed it along, climbing up the engravings of the wand. It hit the narrow edge, emerging as a sphere of light, before sending a returning pulse back. The returning energy fizzled as it moved, touching each nerve of his body. With a measured sigh, Tadashi readied the wand.

“…Hurry up,” Mochi whispered from his perch, watching Tadashi carefully. The stance was accurate, the flow obviously smooth and the boy himself wasn’t immersed in the spell. There was a careful distance from his emotional matters and his magical ones, and Tadashi was watching it.

He had improved quickly in such a short time. Those were the perks of being a son of a pure-blood witch, Mochi supposed, and Tadashi’s natural genius applied itself to more than robotics and medicine. In just a few months, Tadashi had gone from uncontrolled fire power to measured, uniform jolts of energy. It hadn’t been easy at the beginning, and Mochi had Mrs. Matsuda to thank for the training, but for this result it was worth the investment. Tadashi had turned out as a fine witch.

Ignorant of Mochi’s thought process, Tadashi channeled his energy carefully. Magic rose in waves that would crash down if not careful, and pull in more than intended even when careful. The yokai wouldn’t be occupied with its lack of horn for long, which meant that it was now or never.

“Do not fear what is behind the gate,” Tadashi coughed, trying to clear out the bumps in his voice. His voice shook as the power levels increased, and he willed them to slow. “Do not fear what is behind the gate. What you see before you was your intended fate. Move forth, I command. Move forth, I demand. Move forth, you Foul Beast. Move Forth!” With each word Tadashi felt his skin prickle as the levels of magic rose. The air felt thick, thicker, as the light grew stronger. The yokai was roaring again, a pained sound, as it fell to its knees and clawed angrily at the floor. The light was growing stronger. The roaring grew. The words began to flow again, in hushed and heavy tones. The light grew stronger.

By the time that Tadashi had stopped to take in a breath, the light had faded. All signs of a magical incident where he stood were gone- even his cape was clean of damage again. His stance heavy, Tadashi let his eyes sweep across the setting. Nothing was left. Overhead, a bird cheeped.

Mochi sauntered over. Tadashi turned. The wand was tucked away, and with precise steps Tadashi let his hands close over familiar ivory. Cool to the touch, but not unappealing. Mochi went on first, and then Tadashi was kicking off.

Another mission done.

 

            A witch had a simple and fair job. They simply had to protect whatever area they had been assigned to guard, usually under orders of a supervisor. In most cases, up to four inexperienced witches were paired with two experienced ones while patrolling. Head witches were alerted with new missions from their familiars, and they were in charge of directing the normal witch.

            Student witches studied for up to four years before going into the job as an apprentice. In the modern era, the schooling years have been reduced to two years, and witches could choose to drop out of their duties after four years and at least one year of missions.

            For those who chose a path of magic, they go missions. Unlike student or inexperienced witches who patrol in groups and take missions perhaps once a week while they study, these witches go on arduous missions that require days to months of exploration and casting. They must prove their worth to the world at the peak of their ability, and in doing so, heighten their senses and abilities. Witches are expected to take these missions for at least ten years of their life, though the majority of witches prefer to immerse themselves in this stage of their life for hundreds of years. Due to continuous spells, enchants, blessing and mutations, witches have an abnormally long lifespan. It’s said that they do not die from aging.

            Witches who have chosen to retire from their adventurous side have a variety of options. About two thirds chose to give up on their abilities and return to the world of no magic. They are missed by the community, but after years of danger, it is an understandable loss. Those who chose to continue on are usually divided into three categories: Beings of power, such as those in the council, instructors, and miscellaneous jobs.

            Miscellaneous jobs make up for the majority of the graduate witch population. They are the people who craft new weapons, explore technology, negotiate peace treaties with other races and occasionally, cause trouble for the council by dismissing the Witch Code. Though those that stray from the path are few in number, they are often powerful. After all, weak witches would not dare stray from the watchful eyes of the Council.

            Mrs. Matsuda, for instance, is one of the miscellaneous witches. Though she often tells stories about her own path and how she was quite a troublemaker in her time, she has returned to serve the Council. Though at times Tadashi doubts her sincerity concerning the Code, Mrs. Matsuda has proven time and again that she does follow it.

            Instructors, though not as popular as miscellaneous witches, make up a good percentage of the elder witches. Despite their name, they aren’t necessarily teachers. Instructors are the witches who help new witches enter the world of magic; they are there to provide support and in the case of emergency, save the inexperienced witches. The majority of instructors are witches who did not wish to go into a “boring” life as a law-abiding miscellaneous witch normally would, nor stray from the path under the Council, and were also not powerful enough to be picked to be a Council member. Head Witches for example, are instructors.

            But to be a Council member is the hardest task. The Council of Witches is very selective in their new members, and has more reserve members than active ones. Active members judge witches, debate over new laws and handle any large breach in Code. Passive members are those who send out letters, aid instructors and often go on side missions when needed. Those who are in the Witch Council are usually bound to their lifestyle, never to return to a world free of the responsibility of hundreds of thousands of lives. They have been selected from their entrance into the world of witches, and must have lived up to expectations despite countless of tasks. From the very beginning, they are observed.

            That is why, on peaceful afternoons when Mochi rests on Tadashi’s lap while patrolling, Mochi never sleeps. That is why when Tadashi grows frustrated and asks for help, or struggles with a new technique, Mochi speaks in riddles. That is why when Tadashi recklessly throws himself into a battle that does not concern him (but it does, he’ll insist later), Mochi snaps at him to reconsider his actions. He reminds Tadashi that as a Head Witch, Tadashi is to follow the Code.

            It is why when Tadashi freezes, considers and pushes forward anyway, that he allows himself a proud smile. In many ways, unknowingly, Tadashi has sealed his fate.

            When one qualifies for the council, the council are not so willing to let one go.

 

            “Tadashi is gone.”

            That does not make logical sense. Tadashi is a perfectly healthy patient. My scans of him have provided me with information that points towards him having no clause for a premature death.

 

            “Would following this robot aid your health?”

            “Ughhh. Yeah, sure, it’ll help.”

            Understood. Following the directions of the robot will lead to emotional peace for my patient. The robot is pointing right. I shall follow it.

            “… Baymax? BAYMAX?!”

 

            “What are you looking for?”

            “I’m not sure. I just, something… Something feels off? Like something bad is going to happen. Mind if I go down?”

            “Intuition is a very important part of a witch’s natural arsenal. Don’t let me stop you.”

            “Is that so? Thanks, Mochi.”

            The cat mewled in reply, curling himself around the lowering staff. Though it was a slow and controlled descent, he could clearly feel the prickles of rising air around him. Tadashi chuckled at his irritated expression, and reached over to pick up the unsatisfied cat.

            Peace in a bustling city like San Fransokyo is rare, even for those who aren’t involved in forces beyond most of humanity. If it isn’t for cramped traffic and the rush of city life, it’s the dangerous underground world of San Fransokyo, filled with yakuza.

            Had taking care of the yakuza been part of Tadashi’s job, he would be busy 24/7. Luckily (or perhaps unluckily), the Witch Code clearly outlined a task as something to do with the supernatural. Events that have no connection to the unknown were meant to be handled by ordinary citizens, even if they usually resulted in deaths. It was cruel in some ways, but there was a reason for the Code. Much of the blame could be placed on Witch Hunts.

            Speaking of hunts, a hunter group recently entered the city. Usually they notified the witches in charge beforehand, but perhaps they weren’t aware of San Fransokyo’s new position and Head Witch? Mochi had informed Tadashi beforehand to talk to the hunters before they did anything dangerous. Easier said than done, especially when a third of the hunters appeared to be children who still believed in “every supernatural= evil”.

            Nevertheless, it was his job to keep an eye out for things. With a sigh, Tadashi rummaged through his bag in search of an item.

            Enchanted glasses- meant to increase scope of vision by 20x to 50x depending on the user’s abilities. Though it was strongly recommended to stop at 35x, as most people who forced themselves to 40x and over usually ended up sick. Mochi furrowed his eyes as Tadashi slid the glasses on- it wasn’t time for the meeting just yet.

            Car crash in the Southwest: no deaths, two injured beings, and arriving police.

            Break in on Thirteenth and Sakura: Three men in masks carrying guns and currently no injured personal. Requesting money from the cashier. Customer is preparing to throw themselves against the criminals. Estimated four deaths.

            Hit and Run on Thirty Second West: two children have been hit exiting the park. Ambulance is too late. Their parents have already come to pick up the children. A reunited family of dragon halves. They will be welcomed in San Fransokyo.

            Fire in the North, near the Bridge: Will begin in two minutes, 34 seconds. Fire will spread from one kitchen to the entire building and along the next four houses until it reaches the bridge. Estimated deaths: thirty four.

            Abandoned factory in the North Western area: will begin in four minutes, 21 seconds. Unknown reason for death. Unknown number of deaths. Error: magical entity detected.

            Tadashi paused in his scanning of the city. Magical entity in an abandoned factory? Sounded like a formula for trouble. The unknown reason for death and number of deaths were also a cause for worry; there was more to this issue than a simple reading. Readying himself for a potential battle, Tadashi began his descent.

            Something was wrong.

 

            “There is a window.”

            Hiro groaned when he glanced up. Great. Climbing through windows was always a fun thing to do. He was being sarcastic, just to clarify. With a look around to ensure that there was absolutely no other way in, he resigned himself to walking over to beneath the window. Might as well.

            “Okay, lift me up. Wait, higher than this. Higher! Baymax, I can almost reach, we just need to be a tiny bit higher. Juuuusttttt… okay almost there!”

            Hiro grunted as he scraped the edges of the window sill. Okay, gross. There was dirt stuck in his nails now, but it didn’t matter because he could finally reach in with his arms. Clawing against the floor as he moved, Hiro slid himself through the window and tried to ignore the sound of cakey mud against his shirt.

            “Finally!” Hiro huffed, knee smacking against the ground. That would probably bruise… oh well!

            “Alright, now for the hard part. Okay, Baymax, do your best!” Hiro encouraged, grabbing hold of the slippery vinyl and tugging hard. Okay, his head was through. That’s good. And… now Baymax’s arms are through! Even better! And… oh no. This is not going to work.

            “Come on. Come on, Baymax! You can do this…” Hiro muttered as he pulled at the hands. Grabbing the plushy material gathered in the window, Hiro groaned as he attempted to pull Baymax through. Okay, so he isn’t as strong as Tadashi is, but that doesn’t matter! He’s still strong enough to pull some squishy, fatty robot!

            With a yelp, Hiro fell over as Baymax moved forward maybe half an inch. He gave a frustrated hiss at Baymax’s position- this was not going to help him at all. Let’s think this through genius. Surely Baymax had some sort of way to transport other than his case?

            As if on cue, a popping noise followed by a hissing noise came from Baymax. Hiro jumped before gazing accusingly at the robot- what the heck is that?!

            “I am letting out air,” Baymax informed matter-of-factly. The hissing sound continued and much to Hiro’s displeasure did not get any quieter. In fact, it probably increased in volume. Well, whatever! He could just… ignore it?

            “Fine, fine. Are you done now?” Hiro questioned, tugging experimentally at Baymax’s limbs. They slid smoothly now, and with a few well-placed pulls Baymax’s deflated body moved through the window opening with no problems. Good, good. Now that that was over- Why is Baymax making noises Again?!

            “I will take a moment to refill myself. It will only take a minute.”

            Hiro groaned again. Fine. Whatever. He could do this by himself, thank you very much. Ignoring the continued hissing noises of his robot, Hiro leapt off and eyed the microbot in his hand. It was still shaking and edging forward, but it wasn’t as wild as it had been back at his house. An improvement.

            Now that he was in the warehouse, Hiro realized how bleak the place was. The stairways looked unstable and creaked ominously as he moved. The floor was covered with dirt and the wall stained with… some chemical probably. He didn’t even want to think about the condition of the corners. Though Hiro wasn’t necessarily a clean person, Aunt Cass and Tadashi always tidied up his room if he let it rot for more than two weeks.

            A place as dirty as this should be empty. Yet, there was some sort of noise. Something was happening, and it sounded like metal against metal. What was that?

            Hiro frowned as he saw a lightened cubicle in the middle. Was this place once a factory? The clinking noises came from in the cubicle, and he could see the moving machine, so clearly something was being produced. But what exactly was…?

            Microbots.

            The clinking noise was microbots. There was… a barrel full of microbots. Microbots created form Hiro. Microbots that only he should have access to. Microbots that… burned in the fire?

            Blood cold, Hiro took a shaking step back. That was impossible. Didn’t he talk to Krei about how he didn’t want to mass produce his invention? Yes, he did. Yes, Hiro clearly remembered that he told Krei that he wanted to continue working on them. Tadashi was next to him. And Professor Callaghan was watching as well. Then, how was someone producing microbots? Who was producing them?

            “Hiro.”

            To describe the voice that came out of his throat as anything other than high-pitched and hilarious would be an insult to comedian voice actors everywhere. Just… don’t mention it to Hiro. At least, don’t mention it while he’s gasping for breath and staring at Baymax.

            “.. BAYMAX?!” Hiro finally settled for. “You almost gave me a heart attack!” Puffing angrily, Hiro rocked back onto his heel. Since when did Baymax get there?

            “Heart Attack?” Baymax tilted his (its?) head, before settling on rubbing its hands together. “Do not worry, I am equipped with deliberators”. The sarcasm was almost hurtful until Hiro realized that no, robots do not use sarcasm, and yes, he was going to die at the hands of Baymax if he didn’t stop him right away.

            “W-wait no no no! It’s just an expression!” Hiro yelped, raising his hands in warning as he tumbled backwards. He did not want to die in a lonely warehouse next to an unsolved mystery at the hands of his brother’s robot because of an expression, damn it.

            The electrical whirring sound finally died; thank any gods in the vicinity. Hiro gave a sigh of relief before turning back to the issue at hand- his microbots. He had made it clear that night that he would not be selling out and allowing anyone to replicate his invention, and yet here he was. The microbot in his hand tittered nervously, and he glanced downwards. It was shaking again, in a crazed motion. What the…?

            “Uh oh.”

            Uh oh was right, judging on loud tinkling noise of hundreds- no, maybe tens of thousands- of microbots climbing upward. Hiro gaped at the movement; someone had not only replicated the microbots, but also his controller. This was no accident. But that thought had to be pushed aside for the incoming rush of microbots. Almost as though a supernatural force had breathed “run” into his ear, Hiro turned and sprinted from the flood. Only to realize that a certain bot wasn’t following.

            “Oh my gods, Baymax! Come on!”

            Hiro grabbed hold of the inflated vinyl hand (and again, why had his brother chosen this slippery material?) and took off, pulling Baymax along roughly. He gasped as he ducked under incoming pipes, jumped over stray wires and dashed whenever the coast was clear. The sound of Baymax remarking on something didn’t even register, nor did the pull of the robot when squished between poles. All that Hiro could hear was a rushing wave of microbots, and the feeling of being watched.

            Someone was there. Someone was watching this going, watching him run. Of course. Someone had to have the controller, had to be in the vicinity. Glancing around wildly for the culprit, Hiro nearly missed the onslaught of microbots. Screeching as he fell downward into a shaft, tugging frantically at Baymax while he moved, Hiro tried to dispel the sounds of microbots for the sounds of footsteps. Surely if he listened attentively he would figure out who was there…?

            The roaring sound of microbots lay heavy in his mind, and the squishy feel of vinyl in his air stabilized him as he thought. He could hear clinking on all sides- the microbots were surrounding him. He pushed forward, taking in short breaths as he moved. Could he hear something else? Could he see something else? Nothing was registering in his mind yet. There was no person behind him. There were no people hidden in the rushing waves of microbots coming from his sides. Above…?

            Unfortunately, that very second Hiro was pushed out along with Baymax to a metal pathway suspended above. Screaming as he scrambled to steady himself on the creaking metal, Hiro resolutely ignored the aching pain in his knees as he shakily grabbed Baymax again. The metal sound was harder now, louder crackling as metal struck against metal. He really didn’t think this through. Finally managing a grip on Baymax, Hiro whipped his head desperately to look for an exit. But he found something else first.

            A man in a mask. A spiral colored mask that looked too familiar for Hiro to miss its meaning. A kabuki mask with the red lines meant one thing that Hiro could think of – red which symbolized passion, and the pattern which usually meant hero. This person, whoever they were, thought they were being heroic. Ha. Stolen microbots? A controller hidden behind the mask? And that outfit- painted in black to match the bleak, abandoned warehouse? No, Hiro thought, glaring down at the man before sweeping his eyes once more along the building, he was no hero.

            Finally, his eyes swept onto an exit. As if holy light was pouring in, the window that Hiro had entered from was illuminating in the dingy warehouse. But there was no time to waste, the microbots were moving again. A tug, and then Hiro and Baymax were once again sprinting full force- this time with direction.

            He was getting tired now. It was probably only minutes since he entered the building, but already his legs felt like mush. So this was the result of riding on Tadashi’s bike and then laying in his room for months, huh? It was no good. Despite his pushing, the sounds of the microbots were increasing steadily. A light tapping turned into a trickling of sounds, and then streams of bots clanging noisily against each other. But now, as Hiro gazed helplessly at the turn of the road while pushing against the heel of his feet, urging friction to aid him for once, the sound had turned into a roar.

            Then Hiro was being pushed off; metal snapping cruelly against his back, with only the familiar feeling of smooth and clammy in his hand. Hiro gasped as he shook his legs in the air- move, move! The microbots were still roaring, converging together. He was going to _die_.

            Then suddenly, the roaring stopped. His legs were moving against, swimming against heavy air as he tugged Baymax along. They were flying, slow as if time had stopped. A part of Hiro urged him to look behind, to see the man behind the mask, and he began to angle his head. But then a weight- something familiar hit his back. And the roaring was back, just as Hiro stumbled onto the landing with the window. His exit was here.

            “Come on Baymax!” Hiro screamed, pushing against the robot. It had been a mistake, shoving Baymax into the window. Couldn’t it just… deflate right away? Please? A frustrated screech came from the teen’s throat as he threw his weight at the robot. The microbots were still roaring, pushing against each other as they moved. Closer, they were coming. Closer, the man was arriving. Closer, the air felt thick.

            Close, Hiro was falling.

            Closer, Baymax was falling.

            Closest, Hiro was encased in a hug as he fell onto the ground.

            Closest, only Baymax’s eye caught the unnatural gust of wind that prevented it from turning, Hiro first, into the ground. Whirring softly, Baymax rose on hissing legs as it angled its head upwards. The figure was gone.

            The figure was so close.

            Baymax had recorded the frantic push of a familiar entity.

            Had Hiro lied?

 

            “Tadashi, stop!” Mochi yowled, arching his back while his tail stood. His fur prickled anxiously as he watched the male ready himself, staff, not wand, in front. It was bad enough that Tadashi had interfered not once, but three times. The first two were dismissible- a voice reaching out to one in need was a common story in most religions and would be brushed off. The second, a push of magic that really wasn’t warranted, could be excused as a panicked mistake. But a third push? The slowing of metal and shoving of a robot that wouldn’t even be counted as a living being? That was unacceptable.

            What was more unacceptable, Mochi noted angrily as he watched the scene play out in front of him, was the fact that Tadashi was ignoring his directions as he challenged the man behind the mask. Whoever the guy was, he was going to be in trouble if Tadashi really pushes himself to battle him.

            “How dare you try to hurt Hiro! You could have killed him!” Tadashi yelled, jabbing his staff as he spoke. Normally, Tadashi wouldn’t even think of accusing someone of violent intent; but this was about Hiro, and Tadashi would do anything for his little brother, even dismiss his personal ideals of peace to pick a fight with a masked man.

            Silence was his only response, and Tadashi growled under his breath. Despite his shouting, the man had not moved his microbots to hit him yet. They lay in the air, suspended as if in shock, and curling uncertainly. It was almost as if, and this thought was laughable, the man was scared of Tadashi. Fine. No matter.

            “Don’t you ever try to hurt Hiro again. Understood?” Tadashi hissed, hands unclenching and clenching over the staff as he spoke. Voice low and steady, Tadashi continued to speak. “I strongly suggest you stop whatever it is you’re planning to do. I happen to know that that technology is not yours, and,” here, his voice bobbed just a bit, “that it should have disappeared in the same place a great man did. Turn yourself in before it’s too late.”

            The man was finally moving now, taking slow steps forward. Part of Tadashi wanted to move backward and heed Mochi’s irritated directions; another part demanded he stay to fight. A small part, barely acknowledged, told Tadashi to think a little more rationally. But it was dismissed for the tinkering of bots. The message came through loud and clear. Tadashi would have to fight his way out.

            Frustrated, Mochi growled as he watched from his corner. Tadashi wasn’t listening to him. Fine. If the boy wanted to pretend that he could be mature and take care of the city, then that was fine with Mochi. What wasn’t fine about the situation was that the same boy was throwing away the rules for a personal conflict. He might get in trouble for this, but an emergency was an emergency. His knees bent, and then he leaped.

            By the time he hit the staff in Tadashi’s hand, the stones engraved in were glowing a familiar white. The room flashed, and then they were gone.

 

            Robert Callaghan frowned as he moved his bots back into place. Hiro had discovered his location earlier than planned. He had known that the genius would figure it out at one point or another, but he had hoped for it to delay until many years after Krei’s death. But it didn’t matter now. Humming softly as he smoothed over the now settled wave of microbots, Callaghan planned. He would have to move, and soon.

            Though something was poking at the back of his brain. As though he had made a mistake. Had he missed something while searching for Hiro? Had something, some hint, occurred that he wasn’t recalling correctly?

            As the wave of adrenaline passed, the man frowned. The metal walkways were snapped and torn under the previous pressure of the microbots, and the windows on the side were now shattered. Perhaps that was it.

            Smooth footsteps echoed in an empty building as Robert Callaghan accessed his main computer to plan his next move.

            In the back of his head, he wondered why he did not continue to chase Hiro out of the factory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, another long chapter! This one took a long time because of how I wanted to juggle Hiro and Tadashi in this, and especially the first confrontation between Tadashi and Yokai (Callaghan). I was tempted to make their fight a little darker, but they'll meet again soon ufufufufu....
> 
> The next chapter will be connected to this one. I think I will begin to write mostly two chapter events instead of event per chapter. It works better that way so far.


	8. Into Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Tadashi doesn’t smell like peaches and ice cream."  
> In the months after Tadashi's death, Hiro's taken to burying himself into Tadashi's old clothes, textbooks and blankets. But time passes by, and things need to be washed. Slowly, the comfort disappears.  
> Until one night, it returns.
> 
> Also featuring Wasabi running from a monster and the introduction of the Witch Council.

Tadashi doesn’t smell like peaches and ice cream.

            Hiro’s not really sure where that rumor got started from, but his brother really didn’t smell like any sort of floral, fruity goodness. His brother smelled like… Tadashi. He didn’t often wear any sort of scent, nor did he use any particular lotion. Occasionally the smell of their shampoo (apple pie) would cling to him, but the scent of his shirts (the same old detergent the household shared) would often override it in just a few hours.

            What Hiro remembered though, was that Tadashi had some sort of his own scent. It wasn’t unpleasant. It was the smell of experiments, which meant smoke mixed in with perfume and a pop of mint, and sometimes cleaning supplies. The smell of his vinyl and carbon, and occasionally oil would cling after long hours. And sometimes, the smell of egg tarts and chocolate from bought treats for Hiro would stick to his body.

            Tadashi never really smelled like one constant thing. Though girls and guys would coo over people smelling like flowers, Hiro had never really understood it. Something about Tadashi’s smell, regardless of what it was, reminded him of his brother. And that, in everyday components, was comforting.

            It was less comforting when the smell began to disappear.

            Suddenly, Hiro was closing the slider between his bed and Tadashi’s to preserve the familiar scent. He dug into Tadashi’s drawer to pull out familiar shirts and outerwear and stuffed them under his bed, indulging in the familiarity. But just as soon as it appeared, it went. Then he had tried sleeping in the clothing. Tadashi had always worn his clothes to the very last moment, and so his shirts were soft against Hiro’s skin. It had worked, and Hiro had slept comfortably in the guise of his brother.

            Then it hadn’t.

            He had thrown the clothes back into Tadashi’s side after that. He washed his hair in the same shampoo and sighed at the scent. He buried his face into the abandoned pillow. He stuck an arm under the blanket, and gazed out the window. He didn’t dare touch the hat. It had lost any familiarity long ago, and now only smelled like ash to Hiro.

            Then the shampoo had run out. Aunt Cass had bought another, but it didn’t smell the same. Hiro had gone online, but the company had recalled the product’s latest batch. He wouldn’t get another in months.

            It had been fine until when his clothes were returned from him, fresh and clean from laundry. Fine until he buried his face into a familiar hoodie that suddenly didn’t smell familiar. Fine until he realized that bottles don’t last forever, and neither does comfort.

            Then burying into Tadashi’s blanket felt like a waste. Every night tucked in resulted in more of Hiro rather than Tadashi. Every morning, buried into a soft pillow, Hiro would smell gummy bears over apple, and lose his thoughts. His comfort faded, and with its disappearance came nightmares.

            Then the comfort had returned.

            It didn’t smell like apple pie, or detergent. The old t shirts and cardigans lay folded in their cabinets and the textbooks were still. The bed, made neatly every morning as always, looked the same. But when Hiro unsteadily rose after another nightmare (it was almost always fire now. Fire and the man in the mask, gazing with no mercy at his brother), and unfolded the divider, plopping into a familiar bed, he registered something familiar.

            The bed smelled a bit like soup. The smell of pumpkin soup clung to the pillow. In the blanket was the scent of dark chocolate and almonds, and a bit like powdered stone. And then, lying underneath, layered softly, was a familiar scent of Tadashi. Something, a variable that Hiro couldn’t figure out, smelled like Tadashi.

            Smiling softly as he buried himself into Tadashi’s blanket, Hiro pretended that the warmth was his brother. As if in response, the blankets curled just a little tighter.

 

            “Why didn’t you tell me I could do this earlier?” The question sounded accusatory, though the tone was light. Mochi rolled his eyes in reply to the playful jab. The questioner had become much happier after he discovered that he could return to his house to sleep and rest when not on jobs, so long as he enchanted the roof beforehand in case of emergency.

            “Perhaps because I didn’t want you to mope around forever,” Mochi replied. The figure laughed at the cat’s tone, shoulders shaking lightly as he chuckled. Then he turned to the cat, smiling softly.

            “Perhaps that’s true. But I still think that I should have known sooner.” Tadashi’s smile was sunny in a way that Mochi hadn’t seen it be in a while. It wasn’t a full stretched out grin, nor was it a small smile hidden behind hands. But on Tadashi’s face, fresh and relaxed for the first in a long time, it fit perfectly.

            “Trust me, you brat. I know what I’m doing.” Of course, it could just be Mochi going soft. He had grown up with the Hamada brothers, adopted by Cassandra after the fire that took Mochi’s partner’s life. He had been spiteful at first, roaring and furious when the council refused to let him go after the suspects. But when he had seen the children of his old friend, Mochi realized that his new job was to care for Tadashi and Hiro. The eventual magic was just an added bonus.

            “Yeah, I know Mochi. Of course I trust you,” Tadashi hummed, swinging his legs as he spoke. It was a comforting image for Mochi to see the same easy-going attitude Tadashi had displayed prior to his disappearance. Though he hoped that the swinging legs wouldn’t be a typical thing because Tadashi had a habit of kicking a bit too hard and Mochi a habit of wandering too close. The past few times had been laughed off, but Mochi really didn’t want to end up with a permanently bruised side by accident. He could over exaggerate however he wanted.

            “Good. Then focus, we’ve got to play peace keeper for those old hunters. Some idiot of their group decided to go after a vengeful Oni.” Tadashi raised an eyebrow at the statement. The last time someone from their hunting group went off without care for consequences, Tadashi had simple stood to the side until they had asked for help from him. Even then, he asked for payment for his service. Of course, the demand was Mochi’s idea, but by that time Tadashi had little patience for the hunter’s careless apprentices either.

            “Ah, again? You know, I can’t help but wonder what they’d do if I wouldn’t show up. They really should plan ahead.”

            Even so, Tadashi raised his hand and let his fingers curl over familiar ivory. Turning to Mochi, Tadashi gestured the cat over. They mounted and rose.

            Mochi let himself grin at Tadashi’s whoop as they began to fly.

            This was nice, every once in a while.

 

            This. Was. Not. Supposed. To. Happen!

            He screamed as he ran, arms waving wildly as he tried to avoid the mutant behind him. What was that? Honey didn’t do anything weird to someone by accident did she? No, no get it together! Honey Lemon is a sweet girl who would never do that! Never!

            So why was a crazy one eyed beast chasing after him?!

            A… tentacle thing? Limb? Yes, limb! A limb came crashing down to his side, causing another terrified screech to erupt from him. What is going on? Seriously, he is never going to join Gogo for udon ever again. Never! Ever!

            Another limb came crashing down and Wasabi dived back, still shrieking wildly. Couldn’t anyone hear him? He was being loud enough, wasn’t he? But the monster kept coming, climbing with its wet, squishy and utterly disgusting feet. This is nightmare material!

            “HELLO?! SOMEONE, I NEED HELP!”

            The sound of the monster thing screeching as it flipped its limbs forward drowned out Wasabi’s desperate plea, and the man gave another yelp before hurtling forward. Okay, okay. So no one was coming to his help. That is fine. He’s just going to die. That…. That is not fine!

            “SOOOMEEEOONNNEEEEEKKKK?!”

            Wasabi tried to ignore the sweat building on his body as he ran. He knew that he should have put on more deodorant this morning! Now when people find his body they’ll just think he smells bad! Wasabi didn’t want to be known as the guy who died smelling like sweat! He wanted to smell like roses o-or tulips! Heck, he’d even take smelling like wasabi!

            Would they even discover a body? Wasabi panted as he ran, mind working furiously as his legs pumped out another few feet. Is this monster trying to eat him? No, wait just a second! What if the monster was just a misunderstanding? Yes! Surely this is just a miscommunication? It must have mistaken Wasabi for someone else! He was so silly, there’s no way Wasabi of all people would be eaten!

            Then the monster was shooting forward, jaw snapping shut as it tried to catch the green sweater man in its mouth. Wasabi let out another horrified yowl at the sound of teeth grinding against teeth. This thing did want to eat him! He was going to become… monster food! No, kraken food! Just Food!

            “PleaasSEEEE?!” Wasabi tried again, raising his arms and waving them frantically. Why isn’t anyone coming? Couldn’t they hear him yelling? And even if they couldn’t hear him, surely the loud noises of the monster thing behind him would catch some attention? Seriously, they’ve been moving for a while now! Where were the police? Where were the firefighters?

            Wait! He could just leave the alleyway, couldn’t he? He only came this way because Gogo liked hidden stores. Which meant that if he left into the open then the monster wouldn’t follow him! Yes! Letting out a whoop, Wasabi turned his head side to side. Okay, he was going to find a way out. This couldn’t be that hard! All he has to do… is…

            Okay, so it’s going to be hard. Wasabi absolutely can’t go back in the direction he came from because that’s where the monster is! This means that he has to keep going forward to escape, but that is what he’s been doing the whole time! Groaning, Wasabi wiped the sweat off his face with his left hand. Fine, okay, this will be absolutely fine at the end! He’ll just go and uh, he’ll just. Maybe he can um.

            This is not working out as intended.

            The sound of grinding teeth came again from the back, and this time Wasabi knew to dive to the left to avoid the incoming crushers. The monster was obviously not letting up on Wasabi, but at least isn’t fast enough to catch Wasabi in one swoop? So he has a fighting chance! All he has to do is keep running until he gets out. Easy, isn’t it?

            “Wasabi, how did you even end up in this situation? Gogo or Fred, I can see throwing themselves in danger. But you?”

 Wasabi gaped at the voice. There was no way that it is who he thinks it is. As he turned his head frantically to find the source of the voice, he could see nothing but concrete and old paint. Was it his imagination?

            Then the monster thing behind him was screeching. Jaws snapping, he could hear the sound of it flinging its limbs into the walls. Except, it didn’t sound like it was behind him this time? It sounded further away. Then the screaming kept going. Loud and fearful screaming, if he could put it in a humane category. What was going on behind him? If he looked, would he die? He just had to visit Gogo for udon, which was all he wanted! Udon! Noodles! No normal person got hunted down for noodles! Food!

            Then something was glowing behind him. He couldn’t help it this time- Wasasbi stopped in his tracks as he turned to view whatever was going on.

            Reality was being distorted. Something was rippling in the air. He could see something moving along the concrete, and even the clouds were moving strangely. They were pushing forward, from an origin. What was the origin? Wasabi tried to narrow his eyes, tried to locate the source of the rippling, before he realized that the rippling was coming his way.

            Letting out another scream, Wasabi threw himself back into running. Why? What is happening? He didn’t want this! The rippling sure didn’t sound like anything, but he could see it in the sky. It was moving, taking five steps for Wasabi’s one. He wasn’t going to outrun it! He was going to- whatever it is that the ripple thing does!

            “Relax, Wasabi. Honestly,” an amused chuckle, “Don’t you trust me?”

            He did. Honestly. Of course he trusted him. How could he not?

            He relaxed. Muscles slowed. Turned around to see a familiar curve of jaw, and an even more familiar smile. He ignored the tinge of sadness hidden in the folds of amusement, and saw the ripple come forward. Saw it take over the skies before it could take over the ground, and gave his own smile.

            “See you, Tadashi.”

            Mochi’s tails snapped shut.

 

            “You’re late.”

            Wasabi laughed at the accusatory tone, as Gogo frowned at him with pinched eyes. Brushing at dirt that didn’t exist, he slid into the booth that she sat at and picked up the menu. They had decided previously on udon, but it wasn’t too late to change his mind. He was thinking of trying something new.

            When voiced to Gogo, she responded with a raised eyebrow and a curious pop of her gum. “Really, Wasabi? First you’re late for no reason, and then you want to try something new? What happened to you?”

            “Uh, I don’t really know! But I ran the way here. I’m not sure why, but I just feel like trying something new,” the grin on his face was gentle, and Gogo huffed as she spat out her gum.  She eyed the menu one more time, then sighing, threw it to the side. Waving one hand up, she beckoned for the waiter.

            “Give us whatever you think we’d like,” she muttered. Freezing, the waiter looked between the two worriedly, before rushing back to the kitchen, no doubt to ask the manager what to do for these weird customers. Wasabi chuckled at the thought.

            “Now we need to come back here for udon another time. But,” she smiled, pushing the menu to the edge of the table, “it’s not so bad getting surprises every once in a while. Though, I’m shocked you of all people said that. Fred, yes. Honey, maybe. But you? Definitely not. You look the most relaxed I’ve ever seen you since…” Her teasing tone trailed off, Gogo smiling awkwardly to cover up the mistake. Nobody had been able to talk about the event since it occurred, but it was nice trying to get back into normalcy now. It was what Tadashi would have wanted.

            “Yeah, Gogo, I know. I just… I don’t know.” Wasabi smiled.

            “I feel like a weight has been lifted from me. But I don’t know what it is. I don’t even know what happened that’s making me feel this way. But Gogo?

            “I trust you.”

            Lips curling, Gogo sighed. The clatter of the kitchen grew as a man dressed in white walked out, led by a nervous looking waiter gesturing to their table. She eyed them, then Wasabi, chuckled and kicked up her feet.

            “Yeah, Wasabi. I trust you too.”

 

            “Four. Four of them died. In one incident, in a town that we monitored, four of them died. How can you not see the issue here?”

            Lips curling distastefully, the woman being addressed huffed. She toyed with a left strand of hair as she eyed the pen taking notes on the meeting. Every word spoken was recorded, though the messy blocky handwriting whenever the woman spoke made it clear exactly what the pen thought of the argument. That was good. They were in agreement.

            “Of course we can see the issue. But this is an over exaggeration. We’ve become nothing more than folk tales to people; nobody wants to be hunted, but it’s such a small thing now that it isn’t worth the funds you’re demanding.”

            Eyes slitted, the woman spoke with precise words. The hat on her head bobbed as she spoke, the tail on the back depicting a laughing moon. It sneered at the person at the middle of the room, before going back into silent laughter.

            “I- you! I can’t believe this. First picking a newbie as a Key candidate, and then ignoring a hunt? You’re practically asking for this!”

            She frowned at the accusation, before smoothing out the sleeve of her shirt. She wasn’t ignorant. The tattered edges of the sleeve were proof of her experience. One long, solo rip went from the opening to her shoulder, and the back of the shirt was dirty in a way that cleaning spells would never fully clean away. She remembered 1692 vividly.

            “Is that a threat?” Each word clipped. She spoke with the promise of danger, nails clacking against the desk. “You don’t seem to be very well-informed on this case. Very well, I shall take pity on you.

            “The Key candidate is no ordinary, as you call them, newbie. Though it is true that they have only hit eighteen this year, we have reason to believe that they have been exposed to and actively practicing magic from a young age. Not to mention, their parent had been the Head Witch for the city. They currently have taken the place on emergency, yet with their skill it appears that they will keep it from the following years on.

            “I request that you do not make such wild accusations in the future. We would not put an inexperienced witch on such a pedestal, and this person is no exception. They already have a loyal familiar. We have no reason to believe that they are incapable of Council work.

            “As for the hunt, we are well aware of it. We’ve already discussed the dangers involved, and how to avoid such a situation in the future. Surely you are informed enough to know that repairs have already been finished and that the hunter organization is currently being tracked. I assure you, they will receive retribution for their attack.”

            The woman in the center swallowed nervously as the voice lowered ominously. She had pushed her luck in securing a room with the Council in the first place, and being paired with one of the elder members during her lunch was a mistake that was costing her. She gave a nervous smile and rocked from one foot to another.

            “May I ask just one more question then? And then I will respectfully take me leave.”

            The witch frowned, eying the woman. She understood where the fledging was coming from; losing a teammate, much more a friend or a love, is devastating regardless of the situation. It was in her right and power to provide support for those who were going through a difficult time. The woman wouldn’t be able to do much harm with this information anyway.

            “Yes, go ahead and ask. Then, leave.”

            The woman ducked her head in response. Trembling, she voiced the question. It was one asked by all informed in her workplace. Students were curious, professors infinitely more so. Though she wouldn’t be able to return with something special for those who died, she would at least have this piece of information.

            “Who is the candidate for Key Witch?”

            The witch crooned at the question. Of course, that was what was on everyone’s mind. Though many had asked, she had refused them in the past. Jealousy has caused past accidents where either the candidate would prove their worth in a struggle for their life, or they would lose a worthy leader for petty emotions. Well, in this case a little trouble wouldn’t be so bad. The woman wasn’t so strong as to kill the boy, nor so merciless. A little excitement wouldn’t hurt.

            “You are to tell no one this. In exchange, you can visit the candidate and test them. No killing or serious injuries, but you are free to toy with them. And,” she sneered, the moon dangling from the back chuckled ominously, “if I am to discover that you went against my orders in any way, I will add another death to the hunter’s list. Understood?”

            The woman gave a quick jerk of her head. She wouldn’t be able to tell others of the candidate, but giving them a test is the very next best thing.

            “In one week, you shall visit them. Be relentless in your assaults for you only have two weeks to do so. At the end, I expect a fair evaluation. But be warned, you will not be the only person we will hear voices from.”

            Warning clear, the woman gave another nod. She wrung her hands out in front of her as she ducked, worried by the words. Message clear, the moon nodded as the witch straightened her hands. When she spoke, it was in precise and still words.

            “I assure you, this candidate won’t cause you too many problems. We’ve kept careful watch on them. Even now, I am certain we will receive a fair review of him. Though, I suppose I’ve put you through the wringer by now. Would you like to know the candidate’s name?”

            Nail tapping against the desk, she smiled at the pen. It wrote the response in bland, inky letters. It was too bad that she would have to throw out the paper when she was finished. It was certainly amusing to read it. But the woman deserved a response, and a response she’d get.

            “Tadashi Hamada, head of San Fransokyo.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this concludes "Falling Into Place". I've decided to put this fanfiction on a two week update instead of one week, simply because of the sheer amount of finals I'm struggling through. May and June are test months for me, so I'm just a bit swamped at the moment. When I have time, hopefully I'll return to a weekly update schedule.
> 
> In more story-related issues, our main plotlines are pretty much drawn out now. Each should start picking up pretty soon.


	9. If you See Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Magic works in ripples. It goes from the user’s body to their article of choosing, and back. It’s an accelerated force that strengthens as it bounces back and forth. With every push, comes a push back. For every force, there is a counter force.  
>  Tadashi wonders why he didn’t realize it earlier.  
>  Hiro had been the first to push.  
>  It was only natural that someone would push him back."
> 
> In which Hiro enters an abandoned factory with Baymax, nearly dies at the hands of a masked man, and Tadashi is enraged.

Magic works in ripples. It goes from the user’s body to their article of choosing, and back. It’s an accelerated force that strengthens as it bounces back and forth. With every push, comes a push back. For every force, there is a counter force.

            Tadashi wonders why he didn’t realize it earlier.

            Hiro had been the first to push.

            It was only natural that someone would push him back.

 

            “It’s your fault, cat. He shouldn’t be doing this yet, but he is. And you’ve got no one to blame but you.”

            Mochi’s lips curled distastefully at her words. He had only invited the girl because Matsuda was out for her daily lunch at the café and Tadashi wanted to view the equipment alone. He had no intentions of being interrogated, yet here he was.

            “You don’t seem to understand that he has a choice,” Mochi retorted. He spared a glance at the store opening. Twenty minutes have passed; Tadashi would spend another fifteen inside.

            “Choice? Ha! You all say the same thing, so you never realize it,” Sharlee drawled, flickering her eyes between the calico and her rings, “you all the same. Every one of you.”

            “How so?”     

            Sharlee snorted. Risked a glance indoors at Tadashi, caught up in a conversation with the shop clerk, and turned back to Mochi. She chewed twice and spoke to the air.

            “You don’t know? Ahh, it’s the same fo’ all you. It’s ingrained so deep in you that you don’t notice. Then you lose it all,” she smirked, angling herself one eighth to the cat, “You all think you’re smart. But cat,” she leaned in, knees straight and back bent, “none of you are. Not one.”

            “You don’t think we don’t know? We notice. He flies too fast. He chants too fast. He moves too fast. It ain’t natural. He ain’t natural,” she hooked on finger to the side of her mouth, pulling at the candy lodged inside, “it dunt mah ta. It all sah m’,” the candy came loose, and feel to the ground, clacking against the pavement, “it all the same.”

            “We don’t forget. Not so easy. He’s going to die. Of fire, maybe. Just like his pa and ma. And you,” she turned, bracelets clinking against each other, “are going to be at fault.”

            Sharlee paused, mouth open in prepared speech. Then she stopped, teeth smacking against teeth, and grimaced. Blood pooled at the side of her mouth, and she split her lips wide enough for her tongue to pull out. Lazily, she cleared the edge, and swiped the rest with a hand, red liquid staining her rings.

            “He’s going to die, with no choice. He’s going to die because of you, cat. It’s all your fault.”

            Mochi stilled. Sparing another glance inside, Mochi rose a paw to his mouth, and copied Sharlee’s motions of wiping it. Clear of any dirt, Mochi spoke.

            “He’s not. That’s why I’m here. It’ll be fine.”

            “You? You’ll protect ‘im? Ha! Ha! Hahaha, darn cat!” Sharlee grinned toothily, chuckling behind bloody hands. The chains wrapped around her horns shook with her laughter, tinkling and catching the light as she moved.

            “You’re no protector. I seen you. I know you. Cat,” her tail moved, side to side as if watching a prey, “listen to me. You can’t do it. I haven’t been here long but I know. I heard. Heard about your useless self. Cat,” lips quirking, she tossed her hair back, “you’re no protector.”

            “Heard? So you’d prefer old rumors over the truth? I suppose I should have suspected as much,” Mochi snarked back, fur on end. He had thought those rumors had died, long ago. Had Tadashi heard them? If he had, he had made no point in informing Mochi. But then again, that was just the type of person Tadashi was.

            “In every rumor, that is a grain of truth. I’ve seen it myself,” Sharlee retorted, cocking a hip as she spoke, “if you were so good at it, then we won’t have any incident. But we did. You are not so good.” She paused, glancing over her shoulder.

            “… I had been surprised. But it is okay for me. I did not know him prior. You did. And so that was your fault,” she settled for, crossing her arms as she finished.

            “What,” Mochi asked, exasperated, “exactly are you blaming me for?”

            “You are not dumb, cat. But I shall tell you,” Sharlee replied, averting her eyes. She paused, hesitant, before continuing.

            “In the storage room. I... that day was a mistake. We were lucky. If that is all, it is okay. But,” she pursued her lips, “it is not all. I heard of it again. That magic. It is not right. It’s… horrible.”

            “Horrible?”

            “Yes! Horrible! And you! To let him do it! You are horrible to him. The first is mistake. But the second is no mistake. You will do a third, I know. And the third will be too much. He will be hurt,” Sharlee insisted, eyes narrow as she spoke.

            Mochi opened his mouth to retort, but paused. Although he didn’t appreciate the accusations, she had a point. The first was excusable as no one had been aware that the magic was still in existence, and he had tried to stop it. It was purely Tadashi’s fault the first time.

            But the second… he had caused that one. In his efforts to prevent Tadashi from further trouble, he had put Tadashi in more danger than the Council would have possible put him in for bending the rules for his brother. It had been purely instinctive at the time, but even in his angered state, Mochi understood that it was no excuse.

            “There will be no third, I promise you.” Mochi settled on, firmly speaking. Sharlee blinked at the assertive voice, expecting aggression, and huffed. She hadn’t wanted an argument in the first place; she simply wanted to warn him.

            “I doubt it, cat. But I suppose I will accept it.”

            “That’s fine. Any other rumors about me that I should know?” Mochi questioned, curiosity winning over irritation. A bit of part was interested in why Sharlee cared so much for a boy she only met a few times, most just incidents while passing by.

            “Don’t be too big, cat,” Sharlee hissed, making a pinching notion with her fingers. “It does not matter. I only listen if it concerns him,” she thrust a finger to the interior of the store; Tadashi, “or I do not listen. He is important. So I will listen.”

            “Why?” Mochi prompted. He could just talk to Matsuda when they returned home, but Sharlee had some interesting information on her. If the whole city was as favorable as she is, than it would be rather easy to leave the city in Tadashi’s hands alone. Heck, he could even create a magic team if he so desired.    

            “Why I listen?” Mochi nodded.

            “Because you do not. You watch him. And the other woman,” her voice dropped a pitch, and Mochi strained to hear, “she I do not trust. You must not either. She is not good.”

            Mochi raised an eyebrow. The woman in question was no doubt Mrs. Matsuda, past horrible witch. But that was it. At the present era, Mrs. Matsuda was nothing more than a kind, elderly lady who enjoyed soup and sandwich lunches and colorful outfits. Gone where her days of merciless fighting.

            “Do you not trust her because of rumors? Or what?” He asked, curious.

            “No. Because she watches him. Not like you do. You watch with love. She watches with evil. She watches because she is hungry.”

Mochi’s eyes widened at Sharlee’s words. Hungry? That certainly didn’t sound right, but Sharlee had some degree of truth to her words. Even though Mochi disliked her accusations, there was truth to them.

“Hungry? How so?”

“She watches him go. She likes it for him to be in danger. It is bad. It is evil. She is evil. She,” a pause, “tells the other woman. Tells the woman about him. I do not like it.”

“And… she knows. She know about his item. That it is dangerous. But she does not help. She just laughs. I know that she knows. You do not know, cat, but I do. And I do not like it.” Sharlee finished, distrust clear in her voice.

“Other woman? Sharlee, what exactly do— “

“Okay, thank you! Have a nice day! Sharlee, here’s your—uh, did I do something?” Tadashi blinked as he turned from Mochi to Sharlee, eyebrow raised. Both were looking at him with a dumbfounded expression, and he sighed, moving to fully exit the store.

“Are you guys okay?” Tadashi stressed, elongating the last word. “Um, okay. Yeah. Sharlee, here’s your translator piercing. Sorry it took so long, but he had to do something with the, uh, dangling bit? But it’s better now! Um. Are you guys… alright?”

“We’re fine! Just be faster next time, okay?” Mochi snapped back to his senses, nudging Tadashi when he realized that Tadashi was beginning to worry. To his relief, Tadashi immediately settled into a smile.

“Yes, we are fine. Thank you, Tadashi.” Sharlee said warmly, attaching the translator to her stomach. She couldn’t understand her co-workers refusal to adopt the language—it was only natural to adapt to new places, and that including the language spoken. She couldn’t imagine properly serving customers with continuous broken words.

            “You’re welcome,” Tadashi smiled back, “alright then, Mochi. What else do we have to do?”

            “Another store to pick up something for Mrs. Matsuda. Don’t ask me what it is; I have about as much of an idea as you do,” Mochi directed, taking charge of the three. Sharlee moved forward to walk alongside, and Tadashi lulled in the back.

            “Cat, I will tell you one more time. Because he is here,” Sharlee whispered, glancing behind as she spoke. Tadashi showed no signs of listening in, instead pausing to take in the store decorations as he walked. Mochi slowed to wait.

            “The first two incidents I will forget. But I will never forget a third. He is going to get hurt, cat. That possession hurt his father. It will hurt him too.”

            Tadashi noticed the two waiting, and flustered, ran forward. Mochi taunted him, earning a retort, before turning back to Sharlee. He spoke quickly.

            “I know. But I won’t let him get hurt.”

            “What are you guys talking about?” Tadashi interrupted, gazing at the two. Sharlee indulged Tadashi with a “lunch ideas” and the two began to converse about food. Mochi gave an exasperated sigh, before taking charge again. It wouldn’t take long to reach the next store.

            He wouldn’t let Tadashi get hurt.

            But who, he wondered, was the “other woman”?

 

            “What do you want?” Her lips curl at the sight of the man. Lazily, she raises an arm to grab hold of the parasol hanging from the stand, brandishing it in front of him. The reach is warning enough; the opening was simply a matter of distaste.

            “So aggressive.” She rolls her eyes. Fine by her if he wants to act coy.

            “You haven’t proven yourself worthy of otherwise. Hurry up, I have a client to get to. One that actually pays,” she spits the last words, scowling at the man. The parasol wavers in the air. He’s tempted to tease her, really rile her up, but the weapon in her hand is more dangerous than it appears. He’d know.

            “I’m sorry. Honest. I’m not here for a job anyway. Just to talk. So,” He put on a charming smile, “Can we?”

            She huffed, folding the parasol into the original position. The man took a step forward, only for her to thrust the parasol between them again.

            “Don’t get so cocky. I still have something to do that doesn’t regard you. So finish your statement and leave.”

            “Alright, I get it. I can take a warning when it comes. I came to ask for a favor,” she growled at the words, swinging the parasol loosely.

            “Favor? Just seconds ago you said you weren’t here for a job. Or was that just a lie? As is your  so-called just talking. Get out. Now.”

            The man grimaced, raising his hands. He had gone overboard again. This couldn’t wait, he’d have to ask her now.

            “W-wait! Just listen to me. It’s nothing like your usual jobs, honest. It’s just a little thing. Come on,” he offered a smile to which she grimaced at, “I’ll owe you one. Please?” He clasped his hands together to complete the expression, inwardly cringing at his actions. Begging was beneath him, especially at this point in life, but it wasn’t like he could do much unarmed against someone like her. The last time he came here without his assistant… it hadn’t ended well.

            “Fine. Summarize. One sentence.”

            He gaped at her words. So she was feeling lenient today. ‘Well,’ he thought, lips curling, ‘that was just fine for him.’

            “I need you to steal me something. It’s called a microbot, and it was presented at SFIT’s annual fair; I tried to buy it off the creator, Hiro Hamada, but I was stopped by Callaghan. And I’ll,” he took a step, “pay you anything for that bot.”

            The two stared at each other, one eye unwavering with determination and the other full of distrust and hatred. Finally, she averted her eyes to her parasol, toying with the sharpened edge. Impatient, the man turned and stalked to the entrance. If she wouldn’t take the job, he’d have to ask someone else.

            “Fine. I’ll take it. We can set up an official meeting next week. But bring your assistant, I’d much rather talk to them than you.” The words were spoken with a sneer, but it brought a smug smile to his face. Despite her actions, she was always soft to his demands.

            “Then we’ll negotiate next time. Will I see you next week, at four?” She nodded and the door jingled as he left. Just as he exited the building, she called out to him.

            “Don’t be late! I’ll hunt you down! And,” she narrowed her eyes, “this better not be a joke.”

            He laughed, gave her a cheery wave and climbed into a car by the side of the road. She watched as the car turned and drove away, leaving a trail of exhaust behind. Finally, just as it went out of sight, she dialed a familiar number into her phone. It rung twice, before a cold voice picked up.

            “Hello?”

            “Hey. I’ve got some intel for you. And guess what?” Vicious amusement filled her tone, coloring her words like poison.

            “It’s from Krei. We’ve got a worm to catch.” She grinned, tapping the hilt of her parasol against the door. On cue, it opened, revealing rows of knives on the inside. Slowly, she ran her finger over the one pointed closest to her, humming when it caught the edge of her skin, tearing it. She held it against the tip, watching the blood well. As soon as it began to appear, she continued to speak.

            “And guess what Yama? It’s the same worm who put you in jail.”

 

            It was Honey Lemon’s phone that rang first. Under the sounds of wheels squeaking, robots snapping and a small explosion on the left (Greg! What did I tell you about using aluminum with your solute!), it was hardly audible. When the jingle returned for a second time, Honey risked a glance over to the phone. Seeing that it was unknown, she returned to her side of the lab. She couldn’t risk leaving her chemicals bubbling longer than necessary!

            Then Wasabi’s phone rang. At first he panicked, torn between removing the phone from his perfectly organized table or leaving it in place, but the vibrations ended as soon as they started. Puzzled, he was about to reach over when,

            “ALL THE SINGLE LADIES. ALL THE SINGLE LADIES, PUT YOUR HANDS UP!”

            “Yes! I love this song! Who called me!” Fred shouted, ecstatic. Inwardly, Wasabi sighed at the sight. Fred snatched the phone, still blaring that song, and promptly put it down.

            “Huh? Fred, aren’t you going to pick up your phone?” asked Emily, a mousy girl who was working on communications. Her project idea was to create and organize a corporation for emergencies out at sea, and one of the most important things to do was to establish an easy way to communicate that wouldn’t require internet.

            “Ah! It says private caller so I, uh haha,” Fred laughed, turning back to the phone. When it looped, Wasabi barely repressed the urge to walk over and open the phone himself. Honestly, why was Fred playing that song out of all songs?

            Suddenly, the phone stopped. Only for another to ring, except this one was received right away—by Gogo.

            “Hel- Oh. Hm.” By now, most of the people in the laboratory were staring at Gogo, the last to (as they assumed) receive a phone call. At least she picked up before she others had. Though, to their shock, she ended the call only seconds later, before stalking out of the room. Just as she hit the doorway, Gogo turned.

            “Honey Lemon. Wasabi. Fred. Come,” and with that, she left.

            The three addressed hastened to finish up their individual projects and follow. Fred was out the door first, offering a cheerful farewell to anyone willing to listen. Honey Lemon and Wasabi took longer; Wasabi was meticulously shutting everything down and arranging the rest of his tools to make up for the loss of his keys, cell phone and other necessities before leaving. Honey Lemon glared at her boiling solute and willed it to hurry so that she could join the others. When she saw even Wasabi walk out the door, she sighed in defeat and grabbed the liquid to throw it in the freezer. As she ran out, she wished that it wouldn’t implode…. Or anything.

            “Gogo! Gogo, what’s happening?” Honey Lemon shouted as she ran, bag bumping along her hip. Wasabi and Fred were long out of sight, which indicated that they were probably already in the car. She opened her phone to see the caller, but was disappointed when the words “private number” beamed up to her.

            “Go- huh? Where are we going?” Honey jolted, surprised, at the sight of Gogo, Wasabi and Fred packed into Wasabi’s car. They used to jam in every other Friday to go to a restaurant of their choosing. Though the tradition only started two months after coming together, it was only this year that they went to a bar, partly due to Wasabi’s intolerance for alcohol and partly due to Tadashi’s age. Each outing would start and end with excitement and jolliness.

            ‘This isn’t happy at all…” Honey Lemon thought to herself, gazing at the buildings they passed. Wasabi was driving under Gogo’s directions, who simply stated that “Hiro is in danger” before demanding they leave. Though Gogo was frustrated with Wasabi’s speed, they were still moving at a moderate speed with no proof that Hiro was really in trouble. Though Honey Lemon could feel sweat in her palm of her hand as she thought of the boy in actual life-threatening danger. So soon after Tadashi…

            “Right! No, not that right, the next one! Eurgh! Fine, this lef- you just passed it! That left, behind us. Wasabi, let me drive!” Gogo snapped, reading off the directions on her phone. Though now, it seemed that she preferred to take over. Wasabi, in usual worry mode, rejected her decision.

            “No, Gogo, I’m driving! The last time you drove… well,” Wasabi trailed off, averting his eyes, before yelping at a horn honking. “Gogo! Look! I need to focus on the road. Just- when we get there, maybe we can switch. Possibly.”

            “Probably,” Gogo hissed, before turning back to her phone screen, “Right. And not the next one. The one after. Fine. Okay, two miles…”

            “Hey, Honey Lemon! What do you think is going to happen when we get there? Like, maybe there’ll be a super villain! Ooh or magical powers! Oh! Oh! A gate to the underworld, led by a devil girl whose covered in fancy jewelry to indicate that she’s the boss character? What do you think?” Fred spoke up, glancing over to Honey Lemon. She tried to smile in response, though a bit of her cringed at his words. Hiro was in trouble, and Fred was thinking up comic scenarios?

            “Fred. Quiet. Wasabi, left now.” Gogo interfered, drumming a finger on the front board. She jabbed a hand against the window, tapping it incessantly as they drove. Growling, she peered out the window, overseeing the surrounding. There was a lull in her words as she stilled.

            “… Wasabi. Is that Hiro I see?” Gogo’s voice was deadly low, and Honey Lemon turned to peer at the street when she processed Gogo’s words. Her hair flipped with her movement, and she pressed her face against the glass, searching for a familiar silhouette. There was someone with Hiro’s stature, but in the dark it was so hard to tell.

            “Dude! I can’t see! Can we turn around?” Fred asked, nudging Honey’s shoulder as he tried to look out. Clearly, he hadn’t bothered to secure his seat belt.

            “You heard him. Turn, Wasabi.” Gogo commanded, still pressed against the window panel. Her eyes flickered from corner to corner as Wasabi turned, eying the road for a boy in a hoodie. Frustrated at the lack of Hiro in her vision, she turned back to her phone.

            “… Never mind. Let’s keep moving.”

            With that, Gogo began reading off instructions again. Wasabi followed suit, though he seems a bit more nervous with his driving. Fred chose to eye his side of the car this time, and Honey Lemon tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut.

            “We’re at a dock! Cool! This is where all the water villains really burst into battle!” Fred narrated, pumping a fist in the air. Wasabi groaned at the noise.

            “Why are we at a dock? Gogo, why are we here? Gogo,” Wasabi pressed, looking dazed at the water surrounded area in front of him. This was a driving hazard in every sense of the word, probably. To him, it was!

            “Hiro.” Gogo breathed in response, dropping her phone onto the front board to point at a figure illuminated in the car’s lights. True enough, there was Hiro, looking at them with what looked like panic and…. Baymax? In? Was that armor Honey Lemon was seeing?

            “Guys! Guys, please, you’ve got to get out of here!” Hiro broke into warnings as soon as they exited the car. Fred gave a confused smile in return, though Honey brushed her hair from the side of her eyes. Wasabi gave a meek shrug of his shoulders, and Gogo, in full Gogo charm, shouldered ahead.

            “Why is Baymax in carbon fiber underpants?” She stated, giving Hiro an unamused stare. He gave her a grimace in return, before returning to his words.

            “Seriously, you guys need to leave.” Honey Lemon bit her lips at the words. Was Hiro really so desperate to turn them away? Perhaps she should leave…. But if she did, then what kind of friend would she be? No, she’d have to take a card from Gogo this time. Hiro needed help.

            “Hiro, we’re your friends. Don’t push us away. That’s why Baymax contacted us,” she spoke, low and cautious. Hiro was worrying her with his frantic movements, and she adjusted a loose strand of her nervously. Would he listen? Could he?

            “Ugh! No okay, look—“

            “When one is depressed, they will often need to seek the help of close friends and family. We should discuss our feelings. Who would like to begin?” Baymax interrupted. And wow—he was wearing carbon fiber armor. A bemused look filled Honey Lemon’s face as she looked at the robot. Hiro in turn only groaned.

            “No. We’re not—“

            “Ooh! Ooh! I’ll go first!” Fred beamed, maneuvering forward. Hiro winced at his actions, moving forward to speak again, but Fred over-spoke him. “Okay, hi everybody. My name is Fred, and I’m a little sc- AHH! Do you guys see that!?” Fred broke off into shouting as a creaking noise came overhead. Hiro turned at the sound, registering the situation, and took off to push Baymax. Gogo, spying his movement, also began stomping forward. Wasabi stared at the black mass rising into the air. Even in her shock, Honey Lemon mustered the ability to raise her hand. In shaking fingers, she brought her phone up in the air, camera app on. If she were to die now, she’d want some sort of hint or warning when one would find her body. If her phone survived, they would know at least a little.

            The black matter released something, which very quickly turned out to be a storage container falling on top of them. Honey winced, scrambling backwards. Part of her ached to scream, though Wasabi beat her to it.

            … Or not.

            “Yes!” Hiro shouted, far too enthusiastic for someone that almost got crushed by a storage unit weighing probably several hundred or thousands pounds. Though, Honey Lemon supposed it was the excitement of not getting hit that spurred him on. Either way, they needed to get out of there fast. Gogo-fast.

            “Come on! We’re going!” Gogo commanded, and the others followed her cue. Honey Lemon scrambled to the car, Wasabi and Fred fast on her heels. As she pulled the door open, squeezing in when Hiro was dragged along with Gogo, she hastily shoved her phone into a hidden pocket in her tunic. Just as Gogo slammed the door shut, she registered Hiro’s words.

            “Baymmax can handle it!” Uh, what? No, no Baymax cannot handle a monster made of black somethings that just tossed several hundred or thousand pounds onto them withm ease. As if to prove her unspoken argument, Baymax came flying microseconds after. Which, actually, was not such a good thing.

            “Move! Move!” Gogo commanded, smacking Wasabi’s stunned arms with her own. Startled, Wasabi quickly put the car into drive, turning it around before slamming onto the pedals to move.

            They broke out into panicked chatter, though Honey Lemon was more focused on one thing. The picture. She stared at her phone. In the flash of her camera, she had caught the inky tendrils and the figure who stood on them. They were microbots—she would recognize that shiny pattern anywhere after helping build it. But the background…

            The moon was behind the figure. Not directly so, but in the right side of the picture. The moon is supposed to be white and pure at night, is it not? Yet, clearly in her photo, was a blurred black dot. It seemed to be moving in the direction of her, if the blurred motion told her anything. Blearily, she rubbed at her eyes. Was she just imagining things? It could have just been a loose microbot or a speck of dirt. And honestly, what was important was the masked man in the center.

            Honey Lemon bit her lip as the car continued to move. Gogo was yelling, as was Hiro. Fred was peering over his seat to gaze at the back, and Wasabi was mumbling as he drove. It was a situation she could not have imagined being in. Being chased by a villain. Fred was right. They were in danger.

            Numbly, she wondered if they would have to use her picture to identify them when this night was done with.

 

            “How. Dare. He.” Tadashi seethed, hands clutching at the staff he rode. Mochi clung on behind him, claws digging in to Tadashi’s clothes as they flew downward. He had been startled when Tadashi jolted on the staff, even more so when they began to dive. Now, seeing the van that held Hiro was just thrown into the bay, he fully understood Tadashi’s anger.

            “Careful,” Mochi warned, eyes slit at the masked man, “we don’t know his strengths or weaknesses. And I can’t just pull you out again.” Though Mochi knew that Tadashi technically was not allowed to interfere with the event due to it being non-magic related and thus interfering with nature’s path, he also knew that it would be worse to let innocent people drown. On instinct, his tail twitched, splitting into two.

            “I know. I’ll handle this.” Tadashi gruffly replied. His cheeks were hot with irritation and anger at the man who had, without mercy, thrown his friends and Hiro into the bay. He would be down there rescuing them if he didn’t see Baymax go down as well. Despite the accessories Baymax appeared to be equipped with, Tadashi had programmed the robot to save people in any situation—including drowning.

            “Hey! HEY! Yeah, this way!” Tadashi shouted as he neared the figure’s back. The masked man had begun to retreat when he saw that the teens were not rising, apparently satisfied with the deaths of several young adults. The thought of his lack of care made Tadashi’s blood boil.

            The man turned, gesturing towards Tadashi with his right hand. On cue, microbots rose on either side of him before crashing forward. Tadashi floated above ground, staring impassively at the incoming wave. With a swift turn of hand, the mass of microbots split; not a single one hit him as he stared down at the masked man.

            “Any other tricks?” He taunted, mouth fixed into a straight line. Despite the light question, his narrowed eyes and hitched shoulders made it clear that he had no intent to play around. The man in question stepped back before raising both hands, and then throwing them downward.

            Tadashi could have laughed. The microbots rose at the command and fell as well, but that meant nothing. Tadashi had built those bots. He knew, second only to Hiro, the most about how to control the bots and how to avoid them. As the crashed around him, each missing their target, he allowed a toothy grin to appear.

            ‘No tricks then. Fine.’ He reared back on the staff, flying up a bit as he moved. ‘I’ll just have to show him first.’ With one hand, he reached into his pocket, retrieving a familiar spiral carved wand. As it flashed in the light, he could swear that the masked man jolted.

            “What’s wrong?” Tadashi teased, tongue in cheek as he waved the wave around. “You seem… scared.” The microbots roamed, hitting each other as they flooded over themselves. The sight was sad to watch. Microbots are meant to reflect the user’s thoughts and worked with their desires; if the microbots were colliding in such a way that could only mean one thing. The man had muddled thoughts of which included shock, confusion and fear.

            “No answer?” Tadashi continued, finally grabbing hold of the hilt of the wand. “Then I’ll answer for you.” He extending his arm, raising it until the wand was perpendicular to his back. Satisfied with the angle, he spoke, “Dance, Black cats.”

            The wand pulsed thrice before the spell activated, gusts of winds emerging from the tip of the carved metal. Tadashi watched coolly as the microbots came close to defend their temporary owner from the attack, only to be scattered by the force. He repeated the incantation without care, watching as microbots and more microbots were split by the wind created. Eventually, on the fourth of fifth recitation, the attack managed to tear through enough microbots to reach the masked man. A gargled scream escape the man, eliciting a satisfied grin from Tadashi. But it wasn’t enough.

            “It’s too bad that it was Hiro you attacked. I’d let you go but…” Tadashi trailed off, gazing back to the still clear ocean. He had purposely lured the man away in case of his friends rising out of the ocean before Tadashi could clear away. “Too bad.” he ended, shrugging, “Thunder and fire, listen to my desire.”

            Once again Tadashi felt the ripple of magic surge through his body before the wand lit up as two twin dragons emerged from its midsection. Fire and Thunder surged forward, merging as they neared the masked man. Though, just as the attack reached his position, microbots rose with a sudden force and took the brunt of the hit. Tadashi whistled at the sight. Hiro and he had tested the microbots with fire and electricity before the presentation, and he knew just how much the tiny robots could take. With the amount that the man had, he could handle quite a few explosions.

            ‘Too bad for him that Tadashi had more ammo than the microbots would be able to handle,’ Tadshi pondered, setting off the spell again. He expected to recite it a few more times, but was pleasantly surprised when the second recitation resulted in tearing through the microbots. As the attack hit the masked man, the ground where the man stood lit in a small explosion. As smoke rose from the sparks, Tadashi wondered if he ought to fire off a few more spells while he was ahead.

            “Careful.” Mochi’s words echoed in his head, and Tadashi heaved a sigh. He didn’t like being particularly violent but… he didn’t want to just let go of a person who ruthlessly attacked his friends and little brother. If it were Hiro attacking with Tadashi’s vigor than he probably would panic, but as it was Tadashi was nothing more than a supposed dead person. He could do as he pleased.

            The smoke cleared. The man was still standing, though he clutched his left arm. With the mass of microbots in the way Tadashi couldn’t see clearly whether or not he was bleeding, but his arm certainly wasn’t bent right. ‘Dislocated’ panged in Tadashi’s mind. Dark amusement filled him at the thought of diagnosing the man who he caused the injury to.

            “You’re still standing?” Tadashi yelled at the man, shielding his exasperation under the brim of his hat. The man wavered in his stance at his voice, to Tadashi’s confusion. He kicked his legs irritably. Something felt off about the situation. But a quick glance around revealed nothing of particular notice. Hesitantly, he drew his attention behind him. If he were right then…

            “I’m soaked!” Gogo.

            “We’re all soaked!” Wasabi.

            “Party at my place!” Fred.

            Tadashi felt his blood run cold as he registered the voices. If those three were speaking, complaining especially, then that meant that all five of them (hopefully with Baymax as well) were fine. But that also meant that they were in danger if the masked man was to attack them. Tadashi had to stop him. Now.

            Just as Tadashi turned back to the man, microbots rose upwards to attack. Tadashi barely managed to jolt backwards, pulling at the staff he was seated on, as the bots crashed downward, this time capturing him in the flood. A grunt escaped Tadashi when the cold metallic tendrils hit his body, and then yelped when he registered cold air. He was being thrown. In the air. Without his staff, and he realized belatedly, his wand.

            A gasp escaped Tadashi as he crashed against the top of a loading crate. He hissed, swinging one arm forward and grasping the edge of the crate, world spinning as he moved. The rustling noises of microbots unsettled him, but what was important was that he had to move first. Just as he rose, turning to assess the situation, the microbots rained down again.

            A scream did rip through Tadashi this time. Part irritation, part anger and part fear: Irritation that he had been careless enough to have been thrown; Anger at the man who attacked him and his friends so shamelessly and fear that he was without his basic weapons against the man. Tadashi grimaced as he clutched against his sides, emerging from the mess of microbots clumsily. His foot stuttered as it hit the ground and he gritted his teeth as pain shot up from his ankle. A twisted ankle. Perfect.

            The microbots were still whirring in the air, obviously not aware of their lost target. In their confusion, Tadashi rushed behind a tower of crates, looking around for his missing equipment. The wand would be difficult to locate; the staff not so much. When his search resulted in nothing, Tadashi risked peering over the edge of the crate.

            There. Lodged near the edge of another tower of crates lay his staff. Ivory with gold and shining under the moonlight, stones glistening as it lay. Tadashi grimaced. He had found it, but it was in a location far from ideal. He cautiously peeked upwards. The microbots were still moving together, though more than a third had dispersed from the storm to spread out.

            He had to move quickly. His control had been snatched from him as quickly as he had established it. If he failed to get to the staff in time, then he would have to suffer for it. Heaving a sigh, he prepared for a run on his twisted ankle.

            “HHnnnn…” Tadashi gasped as he slammed his weight onto his ankle, tearing through the ground under the cloud of bots. He wasn’t startling quick, but he had been on various sports teams just a year ago. Tadashi knew he could run.

            The whirring sound rose to a high pitch, and Tadashi swallowed nervously as he pumped his legs. Not fast enough to avoid the bots, apparently. The sound of them increased, meshing together to sound like a horn nest of angry bees. Tadashi only had a bit to go. Please! Just a few more feet!

            “Ha-aaAH!?”

            Tadashi shrieked as the microbots closed in. They gripped at his ribs, grinding against them with pressure. As the bots moved, he could feel himself being pulled upwards. The glimmer of his staff lay on the floor, unmoved and alone. Tadashi could cry.

            As he struggled, the bots continued pulling. He wouldn’t die from a drop, but that just opened the possibilities to throwing him repeatedly. His hands scrambled to tug at the necklace against his neck, but the bots wound him so tightly that he could barely squirm. Hot tears threatened to spill over, partly from the pain, but mostly from frustration. Though it would undoubtly release some of his stress, Tadashi refused to let any more liquid well up and pressed his eyes shut in an attempt to prevent the tears from falling.

            Then he was being flipped over. A startled gasp escaped him and his eyes flew open as the hat fell, forced off by gravity. The man in the mask was standing in front of him, upright and steady. Though Tadashi couldn’t see his eyes through the mask, he felt the sensation of being stared at. The microbots tightened and Tadashi choked, tears welling up faster and spilling despite his efforts. At the sight, the man immediately commanded the bots to loosen their hold. But the tears had already begun.

            Irritation flooded Tadashi’s veins. He was irritated at the man, at himself and just generally irritated. Irritation at him failing to get the staff, at him crying, at him being unable to hastily wipe away the tears, at him for getting cocky, at him for getting so mad in the first place flooded him. He scrunched his lips, biting down and squeezed his eyes shut. Though he couldn’t see the man’s face, he certainly didn’t want the man reading his.

            Except the masked man seemed to. A hand reached up, gloved in leather, and cupped Tadashi’s cheek. Through scrunched eyes, Tadashi felt the hand move downward, stroking through his hair slowly. Then it slid to his ear, sliding along the rim. It felt scarily familiar. Very few people had the gall to touch him in such a familial fashion. Most of them had left the scene earlier, one was tucked away in a café, and one…

            Tadashi’s mouth flew open faster than the thought fully registered.

            “Professor Callaghan?”

            The hand stilled. Tadashi inwardly screamed at his carelessness, until the hand continued. It moved from his ear to his hair award, awkwardly patting him in his upside down position. Then it left, pulling back to the masked man’s face. Tadashi watched with baited breath as the mask was tugged upwards.

            “… Professor.” Tadashi breathed, disbelief coloring his voice as the face of the man came fully into view. It was Professor Callaghan. Tadashi could recognize that face anywhere—from any magazine or any poster. But to see him in a fully black garb, in the same outfit he had worn to thrown his students into the ocean.

            “Tadashi.” Callaghan responded coolly. The microbots around Tadashi pulsed, and he resisted the urge to squirm under the man’s stare. Fighting a merciless man was one thing, but Callaghan was another. Tadashi couldn’t fight the man who helped him so many times.

            “P-Professor, why? Why- ah, Why are you d-doing this?” Tadashi managed out, shifting his hands inside the microbots hold as he searched his former professor’s face for any signs of regret. But then the man took a step back, and Tadashi tried to ignore the rising panic he felt.

            “It was a necessary sacrifice. I am only doing what is necessary. Tadashi, you weren’t meant to die. I mourned you when I heard. But here you are, living,” a laugh escaped Callaghan, cold and blank. It chilled Tadashi to hear his professor, his kind, wonderful professor, laugh in such a way. “I was prepared to move on without you Tadashi. And you know what?” He turned to Tadashi, beaming as he stepped onto a platform of microbots. Tadashi blearily realized he was dangling off a tower of crates, held on by the microbots’ grip on him.

            “I still am.”

            The microbots released Tadashi, and he held in the urge to scream. Then he was shifting mid-air, frantically turning to spy his abandoned staff where he had last seen it. There! In the edge of the same tower, it lay without movement. Not for long.

            There were no words for this spell, only a feeling. Tadashi extended an arm towards the staff, imagining a line connecting him with the item. Then the line snapped in, bringing the staff towards him. As he closed his eyes to envision it fully, he could feel the pull of something. Instinctively, he brought his arm in, and with a snapping sound, he felt the familiar weight of ivory in his hand.

            Then Tadashi was flying. The staff shot upwards, him barely on board, flying high over the crate. A startled shout was heard from Callaghan, though it barely registered in Tadashi’s mind. What did register was an aching pain in his ankle, and his arm. And, he grimaced, his chest felt awfully tight.

            The microbots came rushing forth. Tadashi didn’t risk staying in place this time, flying higher and faster to avoid the incoming rush. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he flew, and with a tug the staff accelerated just a bit faster. As he moved, the events began to flow in.

            The masked man was the one who threw Hiro and Gogo and Honey Lemon and Fred and Wasabi into an ocean. The masked man was the one who saw no issue to attacking Tadashi. The masked man was the one who tried to kill Tadashi. The masked man let him go to crash to his death.

            The masked man was Callaghan.

            Callaghan was kind. Professor Callaghan taught Tadashi robotics, but he was more than that. Professor Callaghan helped Tadashi build Baymax. Professor Callaghan bought Tadashi lunch when he was running late for his next class. Professor Callaghan laughed when Tadashi complained about his little brother and compliment Aunt Cass’ cooking whenever Tadashi brought in leftovers. Professor Callaghan marked Tadashi’s papers harsher than the rest, and when questioned told Tadashi that he couldn’t tell anyone, but he, Tadashi Hamada, was Professor Callaghan’s favorite.

            Professor Callaghan told him Baymax was genius.

            Professor Callaghan folded his fingers in his hair.

            Professor Callaghan laughed when Tadashi jokingly called him “dad”, and stopped when Tadashi realized that there was more truth to the word than he wanted.

            Professor Callaghan bought him a present when the school declared it “SFIT teacher’s pet day” and hugged Tadashi a bit longer and tighter than he did other students.

            Professor Callaghan smiled when Tadashi told him stories.

            Professor Callaghan told Tadashi that no matter what, he would listen to him.

            Professor Callaghan was the reason Tadashi ran in to a fire.

            Professor Callaghan was supposed to be dead.

            Professor Callaghan wasn’t dead.

            Professor Callaghan just tried to kill Tadashi.

            The microbots whipped forward, nearly lashing Tadashi as he flew. The wave of microbots split, diving into a cloud of individual microbots, all spilling forward. Though Tadashi maneuvered his way past the cloud’s main tendrils, Tadashi felt a microbot smack against his cheek. The cold metal stung.

            Professor Callaghan is still trying to kill Tadashi.

            Something unknown began to fill Tadashi. Sadness, perhaps. Frustration and betrayal rose. Despair hit heavy, as did desperation and denial. And then, buried deep inside, was fury.

            The microbots kept coming, wave after wave. The masked man, now no longer masked, stared impassively at Tadashi as he summoned the microbots to continue hitting the flying boy. Tadashi grimaced at the sound of the clashing metal. He hissed at the tug of microbots against his staff. He screamed when the thought of Callaghan, kind professor Callaghan, filled his mind. The sight of Callaghan, disgusting traitor Callaghan, filled his eyes.

            The staff began to glow. White, a familiar color. Tadashi recalled the last time the staff glew like it. Mochi had told him not to let it happen. That it was dangerous. That it was reserved for emergencies. But here Tadashi was, fighting against a man he considered a father. That was an emergency.

            The staff bent to Tadashi’s wishes. He was suspended in the air, as if time had stopped around him. And maybe it had, because the sound of crushing metal had stopped. The sight of Callaghan was gone. It was just Tadashi and the staff. The staff was glowing white, with seven dots of green peeking out and lines of gold. Tadashi smoothed his hands over the shape, and bent it in the center. Then again. Then again. He curved one part, than attached another. He tugged at a stone, and pulled at a line. The material was so malleable. So easy. He bent.

            Then the light was gone. The whirring sound returned. A scream, Mochi, filled the air. Something was off about the situation, but it wasn’t Hiro. Callaghan stood on a tower of crates.

            Tadashi held a bow in his hand.

            One hand grasped at the main body of the bow. There were no arrows, but he didn’t need them. The other hand pulled forward, pinching at something invisible. As he pulled back, a fine light appeared, the same milky white of the staff’s previous glow. The arrow flexed with his movement, until he had it fully drawn. The microbots came close. He held on.       The whirring sound increased. He held on.

            Mochi shouted something furious. He held on.

            The glimmer of something from the corner. He held on.

            Professor Callaghan raised his hand. He released.

            The arrow flew forward, piercing through the microbots. Tadashi had half-expected it to stop there. He had expected for it to be swallowed up like all his other spells. But it kept moving, splitting as it hit a bot. Soon, the one arrow that Tadashi had fired turned into ten. Then it turned into hundreds. And as it hit the shore that Callaghan stood on, it had turned into thousands.

            The arrows hit.

            Tadashi gripped the bow, hard. It didn’t hurt.

            The scenery was encased in white.

 

            When Sakura opened her eyes to the docks, the boy with the bow and the masked man were both gone. As was the microbot she had snatched early on. She huffed, though she couldn’t will herself to feel disappointed. She had seen something interesting tonight.

            As she opened her phone to dial a familiar number, she grinned.

            “Yama, do I have news for you today…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha... two weeks turned into three rather quickly.  
> This chapter is over 8k words, making it the longest so far. Chapter 9 is done though, for what it's worth. Currently suffering under writers block with this fic; I know how I want it to end, I don't know how I'm going to get there.
> 
> Thanks for reading my work!


	10. Say hi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9: "Say hi"
> 
> "He hadn’t meant to hit Callaghan with that. He had been panicked. Had Callaghan meant to really hurt him? What if his professor—really, wasn’t that all Callaghan was—had just instinctively tried to protect himself? After all, Tadashi had hit first, right? He did, hadn’t he?  
> But Callaghan attacked his friends. Attacked Hiro.  
> Did Hiro attack him first?"
> 
> Tadashi fought Callaghan and is facing the consequences of pushing his body. Featuring Baymax and Tadashi interactions and Fred's suspiciously intelligent butler.

“… Everything hurts.” Tadashi mumbled, rubbing at his arm. Mochi was perched besides him, cautiously looking over his companion. Tadashi wasn’t bleeding, but his ankle was still in pain and his arm seemed to be bruised. Mochi would tell him to heal himself, but Tadashi was barely staying on the staff properly. He needed rest.

            “I know.” Mochi instead said, choosing not to voice his thoughts. “Come on, they’re going. Let’s follow them for now, okay?” He gestured to the walking group on the ground. Tadashi’s friends and Hiro had climbed out of the ocean only minutes ago, and were now walking through the docks, Fred at the lead. Mochi watched from his position, eyes trained on the large bot toddling behind the rest.

            The staff shifted and began to move slowly, gliding along the sky. Tadashi wasn’t moving, just hunched over and rubbing at his arm. Mochi spared a glance in his direction, but seeing as Tadashi wasn’t going to do something stupid, he could let it rest. Instead, he wrapped a paw around the hilt of the staff and willed it forward.

            Tadashi was probably still in shock. Though Mochi hadn’t been close to his confrontation, he had heard Tadashi’s pained yelp when he got hit. After that, Mochi had lost sight of his charge and the masked man. Then, the masked man was unmasked, Tadashi dangling in front of him. They obviously recognized each other, though Mochi couldn’t place the man. At first he had thought that it would be fine, that the man would release Tadashi. And he did—except instead of gently putting Tadashi down, he threw him with little mercy. Mochi had been ready to release his hold on the warped space when Tadashi was flying.

            Something had kept Mochi seated when he saw that. Perhaps it was curiosity tugging at him, or maybe it was fear. But either way, something had told him to stay put and trust Tadashi. Then when the staff began to glow, Mochi had panicked. A third incident spelled out something that he didn’t want to think of. He had thought for certain that by the time the glow would disappear, Tadashi would be gone from him.

            But something had changed in that second. It was the same power, but something about the mood had changed. One moment, it was a long silver strand. Then it was being pulled by experienced fingers, except Tadashi had no experience with it. Tug by tug, the staff came undone, magic swirling out in wisps as Tadashi snapped his hand over and over. It felt forever, yet it was no more than a second.

            It clicked, then, when Mochi saw it. A too-steady hand clutching at a familiar silhouette made his blood stir. Hunger, he absentmindedly thought. Then the hand was pulling, and Tadashi had whispered something too far for Mochi to hear properly. That was fine. He didn’t need to hear the familiar words.

            “Repent for your sins.”

            The phrase still chilled him to his bones. As he hunched forward, tracking the group of young adults (no more mature than they had been in their teens, just few years ago), his felt a shiver go through at the image in his mind. Tadashi would never hurt him with his equipment, but that didn’t mean someone else couldn’t take it. It wasn’t so easy to protect.

            Hadn’t Mochi repented? He had, and was. He was staying here with the descendent of the witch who had made him repent—that had been all that the witch demanded. Stay with the family. Protect the family. Hadn’t Mochi done that?

            Except that Tadashi was staring into nothing, rubbing absentmindedly at his arm. Hiro was below, mumbling about anything with a blank face that was just recently submerged into water.

            Excitement pricked at Mochi. A mixture of fear and glee at the thought of facing the holy weapon surged through him. But he was being too careless- Tadashi would never draw the bow at him. That was fine. It wouldn’t have to be Tadashi.

            Wearily, Mochi rubbed at his eyes. The group was slowing now. Had he been drowned in his thoughts for so long? They were in front of a mansion, arguing amongst themselves as one left the group, knocking at the door. He watched bemused as the door flew open, and the boy in front clambered in. The rest followed, amazement in their eyes.

            “Tadashi, we’re here.” Mochi commanded. Tadashi blinked at the ground beneath his feet, turning to Mochi with the same blank expression. It irked Mochi.

            “Come on. Hiro’s down there.” Recognition filled in. Tadashi nodded; turning to hop off the staff, only to realize that he had no place to drop down to. They were flying above the mansion garden—any falling movement would be seen by the man in front of the door. Said man turned upwards and oh, yep. They were caught.

            “Mochi? Is that person looking at us?” Tadashi warily questioned, straightening his back. Mochi dangled an arm from the staff, watching at the man’s eyes flickered from Tadashi to him and back. There was no doubt about it. Mochi nodded.

            “Just drop down, Tadashi. Don’t worry about it.” Mochi spoke evenly, eyes trained on the man. Tadashi gave him a look of disbelief, but followed his directions. A second later, he was jumping from the ivory staff and then landing smoothly on the ground. Mochi watched as the man in the entrance bowed to Tadashi, eliciting a jerk from the witch. Tadashi stated something, the man nodded, and then he was walking in. The man stayed put.

            “I’m not going in.” Mochi leaped down from the staff, bounding across the garden before he reached the doorstep. The man, probably a butler, now that Mochi got a closer look, gave him a raised eyebrow. Mochi rolled his eyes in response.

            “I trust him. He’ll be fine.” A pause. The man gave him a once-over look before nodding and closing the door. As it clicked shut, Mochi sighed.

            The staff hovered in the air behind him. He hadn’t moved it, neither did Tadashi. Groaning, Mochi turned to the ivory and jeweled piece. With a paw, he pushed it.

            “Honestly. What am I going to do with you?” Amusement filled his voice.

            “Really, Kevin.” He flicked his tail as he spoke, tone low. “Couldn’t you have brought this to your grave as well?”

 

            “We’re going to be superheroes!”

            “Urgh, Fred, really?”

            “What? We are. Come on, Honey Lemon! You agree with me right?”

            “Um, sure. Okay.”

            “Let’s just go to sleep. It’s been a long night, and I need to rest after all this… craziness!”

            “Wasabi’s right. It’s late.”

            “Never thought you would say that, Hiro.”

            “Whatever! Just go to bed!”

 

            “They are on the door on your left, Master Tadashi.” Tadashi gave a half-hearted but appreciative smile to the butler who had led him there. He had wandered the halls behind his friends, no wanting to be seen by them. A jolt of pain came from his left foot, but he decidedly ignored it.

            Earlier he had heard loud talking from the door, but now there was nothing but a light hum. As he approached the door, he blinked at heat radiating from the room. There was no fire, surely but… what was that? He pushed the door open.

            “…”

            Nothing. No fire. Just Baymax in the middle of the sofa, heat radiating from its body as college students crowded around him. They were evidently asleep. Fred was sprawled over Gogo and Wasabi with little abandon. Gogo and Hiro were snuggled up to Baymax, and Wasabi squished himself between Baymax and the couch they lay on. Honey Lemon alone took up Baymax’s other side; content in letting her legs lay out as she crooned on Baymax’s stomach. It was a picturesque scene, but Tadashi didn’t feel like getting a camera.

            He wasn’t even sure why he followed them. Though judging from the relief he felt in seeing they were unharmed, he supposed it was worry over everything. With a sigh, he eyed the room. Ah. The blankets lay untouched next to the sofa, and with an amused huff, he moved to pick them up.

            A whirring sound hit his ear, and Tadashi froze. He wasn’t actively using any magic outside of his body, which meant that cameras weren’t to pick up on him. The only spells he had on was a self-healing one to deal with his pain and an enchantment to prevent him from being detected. Though it may have deactivated without his memory if Fred’s butler had seen him.

            Tadashi whispered the enchantment under his breath, relishing in the rush a casting gave. Content that he was no longer detectable in any means, he picked up the blankets. Honestly. His friends were going to get sick if they were sleeping soaking wet, even with a heated robot. It was with an amused shake of head that Tadashi turned to cover his friends. Only to see Baymax staring at him.

            “…?”

            Tadashi blinked at the robot. Was Baymax looking at him? Hesitantly, Tadashi took two steps to the left. Baymax’s eyes followed. Four steps to the right. Baymax tilted his head. Then a few steps forward, so that he was only feet from the robot. One hand was thrust forward, and then Tadashi was slowly laying a blanket over Fred and Gogo’s body. Baymax stared.

            Nothing was being said. Okay. Maybe Baymax was just detecting something in the room? Surely he couldn’t actually see Tadashi, right? He gave Baymax a half smile, twitching his lips nervously as he set out another blanket over Wasabi. His arm connected with Baymax’s shoulder. Baymax made no noise.

            So far so good then. With hollow breaths, Tadashi moved to Honey Lemon. Two blankets over her, as her legs were spread too far for one to cover them both. His hands shook under Baymax’s stare. Sweat welled up on the back of his neck, and instinctively he put a hand there. Did Baymax catch that? A glance over revealed that the Baymax hadn’t moved, but his eyes were clearly still focused on Tadashi.

            All that was left was Hiro. It would be fine. Tadashi toddled over; steps slow as to not wake up the others. This time, he couldn’t help but look at Baymax as he moved. Was Baymax really seeing him? Or perhaps he was confused as the invisible force holding the blanket? Oh! Of course!

            Tadashi could have laughed. He was panicking for no reason. Invisibility only applied to the user and enchanted equipment that was directly connected to the user. Blankets, ordinary warm blankets, wouldn’t apply to those rules. Baymax was tracking the floating blankets and wondering why they were floating and setting themselves on the people lying around it. With a huff of amusement at his own unnecessary worrying, Tadashi laid the final blanket on Hiro.

            The edge of the blanket rolled off Hiro’s shoulder, and with a huff Tadashi reached forward to fix it. Except Baymax’s hand came up too, and Tadashi watched with baited breath as his hand connected to the familiar vinyl. There was a lull in Baymax’s movement, and then the robot was pinching at the fabric and folding it over Hiro’s shoulder. Tadashi blinked, looked at his still extended arm, and embarrassingly pulled back. What was he thinking?

            Then Baymax moved forward. One hand, as soft as Tadashi had designed it, enclosed around Tadashi’s wrist. Tadashi watched as Baymax leaned forward, moving from the sofa slowly as to not awaken the sleeping people around it, eyes blinking. Then the robot gave a beeping noise and released Tadashi’s hand. He stood there, dumbfounded as Baymax began to speak.

            “I have scanned you. I detect a sprained ankle. Do not worry. It is self-treatable. If it swells, I suggest…” Baymax clenched its fist, and then reopened its fingers, “an ice patch. However, my hands have been programmed to—”

            “Freeze to any temperature between 0 degrees Celsius and -100 degrees Celsius. Baymax?” Tadashi cut the robot off, peering at the robot hesitantly. His eyes roamed over the exposed part of the robot. Nothing appeared to be broken, and he was certain that Hiro didn’t do too much with his invention. But Baymax was tracking him, which shouldn’t be possible.

            “Tadashi. I have heard from Hiro that you have died. I expressed doubt due to your health history. I am pleased to know that I am correct.” The robot stated. Tadashi gave a disbelieving chuckle, shaking his shoulders as he looked at the bot. Pleased? Doubted? He had programmed Baymax as a learning AI but…

            “You are showing signs of shock. I suggest taking slow, deep breathes. Please do not worry, Tadashi. Shock may lead to,” Tadashi drowned out Baymax then. His robot was talking. To him. Hadn’t the spell worked? He had casted it, felt the rush of a successful charm. No. It had worked. Then why was Baymax talking to him?

            “Tadashi, please calm down. Your breaths are quickening. You are fulfilling the standards of hyperventilation.” Baymax informed. Tadashi knew. He could feel his pulse moving, and it felt as though sweat was pouring down his face. A hand reached out to rub at his skin, and he pinched it harshly. He felt pain. But it felt numb as well. As though it wasn’t really there. This wasn’t real.

            “How are you seeing me? Baymax, you shouldn’t be able to see me. I don’t I d-don’t ah. Baymax… I just don’t kn-know I just…” Tadashi spoke. How could he express his feelings properly? Everything felt so dizzying. He felt so lost. Baymax wasn’t supposed to be able to detect him at all. He was. Why could he see him? Why could he feel him, talk so smoothly?

            The night’s events came crashing down onto Tadashi.

            Hiro had nearly drowned. Hiro had fitted Baymax, his Baymax, with armor.

            Tadashi’s friends could have died. Fred, loud and excited Fred, was going to drown. Gogo, who was always witty and quick, was going to drown. Honey Lemon, sweet like her name, was going to drown. Wasabi, quietly courageous and cool-headed, was going to drown. They were all going to die.

            Then they didn’t.

            Why were they going to die? Because of the masked man.

            The masked man wanted to kill them all. He wanted to kill everyone. Tadashi too.

            The masked man was Callaghan.

            Callaghan wanted to kill Tadashi.

            Mochi had said something about the staff. Something about the bow. Tadashi hadn’t known what to do. It had just happened. It was just instinctive.     

            He had to do something.  The microbots had been rushing, didn’t Mochi understand? It was a spur of the moment thing. He couldn’t control it.

            “Tadashi, your heart rate is…”

            He hadn’t meant to hit Callaghan with that. He had been panicked. Had Callaghan meant to really hurt him? What if his professor—really, wasn’t that all Callaghan was—had just instinctively tried to protect himself? After all, Tadashi had hit first, right? He did, hadn’t he?

            But Callaghan attacked his friends. Attacked Hiro.

            Did Hiro attack him first?

            “Tadashi.” Baymax shuffled forward. The robot paused as Hiro murmured, shifting in his sleep. The robot paused, eyes flickering between the Hamada in his lap and the one standing in front of him. Both needed help, but one needed immediate relief.

            Hiro had, hadn’t he? And Tadashi had probably followed suit. Poor Callaghan. It was Tadashi’s fault this was happening. He should have assessed the situation properly.

            But why was it all happening? Why did Callaghan have microbots?

            Callaghan was at the dock. Callaghan was at the warehouse, a while back.

            Callaghan watched Hiro drown.

            Callaghan had pushed Hiro out a three story window, intent on him dying.

            Wasn’t Callaghan a good guy?

            He had to be. He was Professor Callaghan. But Hiro was a good person too. Sure, Tadashi’s little brother had many faults. But he wasn’t a bad guy. Just misunderstood, that was all.

            Then was Tadashi the bad guy? Wasn’t he supposed to be the good one, the judgment bringer? He was the Head Witch wasn’t he? The one in charge, as Mochi had stated?

            But he wasn’t suited for the job. Why had Mochi chosen him? Hiro was the genius. Hiro was the one who could take charge. Hiro was the one who was excellent at everything. If Mochi had waited, then Hiro could be the head witch. Hiro would be amazing.

            But that’s right. San Fransokyo was in emergency. They needed a witch right away. Yes, that was why they took Tadashi. There was no way they would seriously take Tadashi if he and Hiro were the same age. He didn’t need to do this. He wasn’t fit to do this!

            He couldn’t do this.

            “Tadashi.”

            Tadashi inhaled vinyl as Baymax shuffled forward, taking the elder Hamada in its arms. Tadashi blinked as the robot leaned down, one arm on his neck (he always liked that; the reassuring pressure of a hand behind him) and the other around his body.

            Hiro was on the couch behind, snoring with abandon. Baymax had moved him slowly as to not awaken him. The rest of Tadashi’s friends hadn’t awoken. Just Baymax was watching Tadashi.

            And that was it, wasn’t it? Baymax wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be just on the sofa, holding a group of tired students. He wasn’t supposed to be standing, hugging Tadashi. He wasn’t supposed to have a comforting hand on his back, holding him despite his tremors. He was supposed to be just on the couch.

            When did Tadashi start thinking of Baymax as a he?

            “Tadashi. Your heart rate is stabilizing. However, your blood pressure still appears to be somewhat high. Your ankle is still an issue. If you would like, we can—”

            “Baymax, I-I just… I can’t do this. Just… not now. Not with every other crazy thing that’s been happening.” Tadashi laughed, low and hollow. He clenched his hands as he spoke, casting his eyes downward.

            “Please. Just. Let me go.”

            The arms loosened. Slowly, but they did. Tadashi stared at the floor beneath Baymax, refusing to look at the robot he had built; at the figure that he had spent months, years, on painstakingly crafting. The room felt suffocating. He wanted to leave.

            Baymax shuffled backwards. Tadashi moved back. Then he turned out of the room.

            The door shut firmly behind him, sliding into place with no sound.

            Baymax watched with silence as Tadashi disappeared from its radar.

 

            Sharlee hissed as the hall filled with conversing (gossiping, really) spirits of all kinds. They had all seen the signs of the attack, yet no one knew the source of the light. But Sharlee had a feeling.

            “Liar, that cat.”

            She’d stomp him into the ground the next time she sees him.

 

            Mrs. Matsuda ate dinner in silence. The meat and potatoes she had ordered from Lucky Cat Café earlier that day were cold, but she didn’t want to bother warming it up. What was more concerning was the noise outside.

            Spitting. Shrieking. Furious attacking.

            Mrs. Matsuda ignored it all. They wouldn’t manage to get through her barriers, and it wasn’t as if she didn’t know what they were raving about. She wouldn’t take away their ability to complain, though she wouldn’t help protect them from her enchantments. It was their choice to speak to her, even though she had made it clear that she didn’t wish to speak to them.

            The rice served with the dish didn’t taste so good cold. With a grunt, Mrs. Matsuda rose from her seat to microwave the remainders of her dinner. She’d eat the rest of it at its correct temperature.

            The sound of banging on her window caught her attention. She turned to the creature outside. A water spirit glared down at her, screaming something she couldn’t hear. They must have broken through some of the enchantments. At the very least, she supposed that she would give them credit for their endurance. With a sigh, she prepared herself for recitation. She didn’t feel like speaking to anyone tonight.

            “Really, what have you done this time, Mochi…”

 

            “Hah… the Council will be angry with me if I delay this any longer…” Naomi sighed, combing her hair roughly as she spoke. After another long day managing complaints and calls from witches across the globe, she was exhausted. But now! Now!

            “I can have my vacation!” Naomi whispered to herself, pumping a fist excitedly. She hadn’t expected much from her visit with the council only few days before; she had hoped for a bit of a boost in funeral plans but was shocked to be rewarded with the chance to test the new candidate for key witch! She was so ecstatic!

            “Vacation? So that’s why you’ve been so bouncy this past week.”

            Naomi squeaked at the voice. Turning around, she gasped when another witch came into view, grinning toothily. The witch was a yuki-onna, or a snow demon. In her past life she had been a kind woman who nurtured her children every day; when she died in a mountain during a plane accident, she grew vengeful and hateful. Prior to her death, she was a famed apprentice witch. But after being caught by the council and returning to her senses, the demonic side began to fade.

            “S-Shao! Gosh, how long were you listening?” Naomi gasped, flushing at the thought of the elder witch listening to her earlier singing. How loud was she? Feeling her cheeks burn at the thought, Naomi covered them with the palms of her hands.

            “Relax, Naomi. Just came in at the vacation bit. Although…” Shao’s voice dipped as she smirked, “I could hear your singing a mile away. I didn’t know you listened to AKB.”

            Naomi gasped, face and ears growing red. Unlike Shao, Naomi was only a recent transformed spirit. Due to her transforming into a mizuchi (water dragon), her magic potential was incredibly high and allowed her to be taken on for full training. Now, nearly a hundred years after her rebirth, she was a worker for the Council of Witches.

            “Gosh, don’t tease me Shao!” She huffed, turning from her friend. Her lips curled in a definite pout as she returned to packing her bag. “A-Anyways, we don’t have much to do anymore. We ought to get going.”

            “Yeah, yeah. Though I’m curious… what are you doing in your sudden vacation?” Shao questioned, moving forward to catch Naomi’s hands. Naomi stiffened at the touch, instinctively moving away.

            “Hey! Shao!” Shao chuckled at her friend’s reaction, waving her hands teasingly. Naomi rolled her eyes at the action.

            “Well, if you really must know, I’ve been assigned to do something important. It’s for the Council, so don’t question me!” Shao’s laughter cut off when Naomi finished, causing Naomi to give her a questioning look. Shao’s mouth was open as she stared at Naomi. Her hands were no longer waving and now hanging limply from the sides of her body.

            “H-Hey! Shao! Wait, what’s wrong?” Naomi squeaked.

            “Council… Council…” Shao responded blankly. Naomi panicked at the sight.

            “Shao, have some water!” She moved her hand upward, tugging at the water vapor in the air. As the molecules were brought together, a bubble of water appeared above Shao’s head. With a snap of Naomi’s fingers, the bubble popped, raining water over Shao. The girl in question shrieked at the sudden attack.

            “Naomi! It was just a second!”

            “…eh?”

            Shao snorted at Naomi’s confused face, laughing lightly as she tugged at her now soaked uniform. Well, it was fine to have a little fun every once in a while.

            “Anyway, Naomi, where are you going? Don’t have to tell me if you can’t, but I’d like to support you, you know?” Naomi smiled at her friend’s words. Shao was so nice to her!

            “I’m going to San Fransokyo!” She bubbly responded, hands swinging. She wouldn’t speak about the key witch due to the Council’s words, but she wasn’t banned from telling anything about her destination. Besides, only a few years ago San Fransokyo was a bustling gathering area for witches of all calibers. It was going the hunter’s influence that ceased major magical activity for those years. Well, no matter! They had a new witch running it now.

            Except Shao’s face darkened at the words. She grimaced, crossing her arms as she glanced over Naomi. Finally, she seemed to make up a point, and began to speak.

            “Naomi, San Fransokyo is too dangerous for one person. I’m coming with you.”

            “H-huh? Wait, No! SHAOOOO?!”

 

            Naomi huffed as she hugged Shao’s chest, preparing for the ride from New York to San Fransokyo. The ride would be nearly two days, and though she would prefer to go with flying magic, she had been sent a ticket prior for the ride. She peered out the side window, pouting, ignoring Shao’s weight. Speaking of Shao…

            ‘Just how much trouble will I be in with the council…?’

            The thought chilled her bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuff is really heating up now for Tadashi and co. Heavy hints about Baymax's position in Tadashi's new life. 
> 
> The next chapter will be "In Transition".


	11. In Transition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11: "In Transition"
> 
> Magic is gathering in the city

Honey Lemon hummed as she awoke on Saturday. The alarm was meant to go off at 5 am, but she had awoken just minutes earlier. It was with glee that she shut the alarm.

            As Honey brushed through the knots in her bed hair, she eyed the makeup that she had set up the night before for this day. She had even left earlier than her friends from Fred’s house for this morning. Honey Lemon had convinced them all to join her for the event, though she knew not everyone would be participating.

            As she checked that her hair was silky smooth, she moved back to her room to prepare for the day’s events. As with her make-up, she had set out her jewelry and clothing the night before. The thought of wearing out her new outfit made her heart thump, and she contained a squeal as she began to change.

            She pulled on her blouse first, and adjusted the suspender skirt to sit at her waist. The skirt was patterned, and she had set up the matching cardigan earlier the previous day. As Honey Lemon pulled on her stockings, she fantasized about the day’s events. Then she turned to her accessory and make up boxes.

            A bit of worry bubbled in her chest as she pinned her hair back in preparation for the fashion transformation. She hadn’t worn this fashion in front of her friends before. Although many online guides had suggested her usual clothing style as alternatives to the original brands, Honey Lemon knew that the real thing was very different from any attempt at a casual version. As she applied her blush, she willed herself to stop worrying. Otherwise, her natural blush would mess with her makeup, and that was something she would hate.

            Satisfied with the blush, she pulled out a smaller makeup pouch. She resisted the urge to gnaw at her lips, pulling out familiar lashes and contacts. Behind them were two sheets of stickers, mostly featuring rhinestones, bows and sanrio characters. Honey Lemon looked them over carefully, and picked one sheet up, pulling slowly at it. She could do this.

            Makeup complete, Honey Lemon clicked at her phone for the hair tutorial she had saved a few weeks prior. She giggled to herself when she saw the picture of Fred pretending to be dinosaur as Hiro laughed in the background. She continued to scroll through new content, grinning at each picture of her friend’s shenanigans.

            Gogo was kicking Hiro’s ankles as the boy pretended to cry out. Wasabi complaining as Fred spilled crumbs over his work. Honey Lemon smiling into the camera with Fred and Wasabi by her side, then another with Hiro and Gogo. A single solitary picture of Tadashi’s hat.

            Honey Lemon paused when she passed another picture. She had only taken it a few days prior, but she had forgotten its existence until now. Wasn’t there something off about this picture the first time she saw it? Oh, yeah!

            She zoomed into the corner of the cellphone, closing in on the side where the moon was illuminated. On the moon was an enlarging dot of black. However, when zoomed in she could clearly see the outline of what appeared to be a person. Earlier Honey Lemon hadn’t had the time to search about it, but maybe she could crop out the section and paste it online for advice? That would be easy enough.

            With a satisfied hum, she turned back to the rest of her picture gallery. Now, where was her hair tutorial?

 

            “Woah, Honey Lemon! You look great!”

            Honey giggled at Hiro’s enthusiastic shout when she walked to greet her friends. She had arrived at the event earlier than they to sign up properly and get pictures with other participants. But it was nearing the event time, and they had all begun to arrive.

            “Hiro’s right, Honey. You really do look nice.” Wasabi complimented, shifting his feet as he spoke. A bit of Honey pitied him for coming—he had never been good with alternate fashion events, especially given his personal style. But that made his presence in it all the more important to her.

            “I wish I knew about this sooner!” Fred enthused, showing off his numerous plastic rings and bangles he had on, “I would’ve really gone all out!”

            “You mean this isn’t you going all out?” Gogo interrupted, chewing her bubblegum with the same motion as always. The normalcy of her action sent flutters in Honey.

            Fred was pretty dressed-up. Rather than his typical shirt over shirt over loose pants, he was decked out in accessories and layered clothing. She could count one polka dot undershirt, one loose tee, one plaid over-shirt, one loose hoodie and then a bulky one on top. Even his legs had layering- socks were hiked on top of other socks. She giggled at the sight.

            “I love it, Fred! We’re going to be perfect for the parade!” Honey Lemon squealed, catching her friend in a joyous hug. Her head bows and barrettes caught against his hair pins, entangling their locks, causing more mixed laughter.

            “I’ll be sure to take pictures for you, Honey Lemon.” Wasabi said. Though he had opted out of dressing for the event, seeing his friends so happy made it worth it to come. Even if some people had a different set of certain… tastes.

            “Thanks! Yay Harajuku fashion walk!” She bubbly replied, playing with a curled lock of hair. The tutorial that morning had been perfect for the right bounce in her hair! Tugging along Fred’s arm, the two head for the parade’s starting point. It wasn’t really a parade, technically just a walk, but with so many subcultures located in one area it certainly felt like one.

            “Oh, one more thing! Hiro!” Honey called, beckoning the teen over. Hiro gave her a quizzical look as she giggled enthusiastically, digging out her cellphone and handing it over.      

            “Last time it feel out of my pocket. Hold it for me, okay? And take good pictures! Instagram it!” With that, she gripped Fred tight and left.

            “Come on; let’s go to the starting point. Last time I came with Honey, the rest of her gyaru gang got annoyed when I didn’t get exact shots. Not to mention,” Gogo jabbed a finger at the direction Fred and Honey had disappeared, “Fred’s decked out in decora today, which means they’d want some pictures too.” Wasabi gave her an amused look as she sighed, recounting the last event. She’d been dragged to get changed as well, and grumpily ended up wearing a poofy pannier under a lolita dress. It was better than the pastel outfits of those fairy kei girls, but pink wasn’t her color regardless of the specific style.

            “Hiro?” Wasabi and Gogo turned to the last member of their party—Hiro. He hadn’t moved from his starting location, instead looking at Honey Lemon’s phone.

            “Hiro?” Wasabi tried again, pointing anxiously at his friend’s arm. Hiro jolted as if waking from a trance, and gave Wasabi a sheepish look.

            “Ha-ha! Sorry about that. Not much sleep last night, you know?” They certainly did, and judging from the exchanged looks between the two, they weren’t going to let any of the group fall asleep. No doubt, they’d be watching him to ensure he wouldn’t get lost in the flood of onlookers. That was fine.

            Hiro had already messaged the photo to his phone anyway.

 

            Tadashi groaned as he curled over in bed. His head stung, as did the rest of his body. Light peered in from the folds in the curtains, but he didn’t want to move.

            With a final sigh, he resigned himself to another few hours in bed. He was in no state to be getting up today, so he might as well sleep.

 

            “You messed up.”

            The cat flinched as the voice continued, irritation strong in her tone.

            “I told you before, Mochi. Tadashi needs limiters. And what did you say? That it was fine. That nothing would happen. Yesterday was certainly the opposite of nothing.”

            She snapped as she spoke, drumming a hand against the counter. Mochi audibly swallowed, hunching back to look smaller. But she didn’t seem eager to spare him any sympathy anytime soon.

            “Tadashi has a staff. I thought he was only equipped with a wand, Mochi. He, at not even a year into his active training, is using the staff. Not just any staff, but Richard’s staff. Mochi, why wasn’t I informed of this earlier?”

            Silence spanned the living room, with the exception of Ronald sipping calmly at his soup. Mochi shuffled nervously as Mrs. Matsuda pinned him with a glare, upset clear on her face. He’d need to settle this quickly.

            “Momo, I didn’t even know that Tadashi would be able to do that. I don’t even think that he knows how he did it. But he just did.” Mrs. Matsuda raised an eyebrow, and Mochi felt his pace increase as nerves set in.

            “It was an emergency! There was someone there who somehow has very powerful equipment, capable of taking quite a few spells, yes, even with no limiters, and Tadashi was facing off with him! What would you have done?” Mochi snapped.

            “I wouldn’t have even given Tadashi the staff in the first place. Where did he even get it from? I thought it was locked up after Richard’s…” Mrs. Matsuda trailed off, but there was no need to complete the sentence. Both beings had been around the hunting.

            “So did I. But it was in Tadashi’s safe. The little devil worker for the bank didn’t even recognize the power in it until afterwards, so it must have just been there. Someone intended for Tadashi to inherit it.” Suspicion arose as Mochi spoke. Items from a hunt aren’t inherited the same way as most—usually they were stolen by the hunters. For something like that to be left behind and placed in a safe for someone who had yet to come of age… something was happening behind the scenes.

            And they had no idea what.

 

            “Allister Krei here. Who is this?” Krei hummed into the phone as his secretary stared his way. He gave them a grateful smile to which they rolled their eyes at, leaving without a word. Krei pinched at the phone in his hand.

            “Hello, Mr. Krei.” His smile stilled when the voice registered. He hadn’t been expecting the response to be so quick.

            “Yama, it’s nice to talk to you again. Really, it’s been so long.” He laughed into the phone, waving his hand even though it would be impossible to translate through the wire. A growl from the other end of the line elicited more laughter.

            “I don’t have time for your jokes. The job. We’re taking it.” Krei’s smile grew cold as Yama spoke, dropping entirely off his face by the time Yama finished speaking.

            “Now, now Yama. It’s not a job, remember? It’s just a simple theft, that’s all. You can handle that much, can’t you?” Krei hissed into the phone, eyes narrowing. If Yama wouldn’t take the job he could reach out to another business, but he doubted they would take his information so lightly. This would put a wrench in his plans.

            “Actually, it’s not.” Krei frowned, brows furrowing together at Yama’s heavy tone. The man sounded unusually sober. “Sakura was sent in today to investigate beforehand. Apparently there’s a man who is using the microbots and the hero kid no longer has any on him. Which means,” twisted amusement filled the voice, “That this is going to be an assassination mission at the very least.”

            Krei grimaced. He didn’t like jobs resulting in deaths, but they did happen. Despite his attempts to avoid them, more often than not his jobs would result in at least a few deceased members. It was just a process of being in the field, but even so, they made him uncomfortable.

            “Hm. Cost?” He asked.

            “Free of charge.” Krei’s eyebrows shot up at the phrase. Yama, giving away jobs for free? Unheard of. Curiosity pumped through Krei as he listened intently. Something was going on behind his back here.

            “Continue.” He commanded.

            “You want a microbot? We’ll get you one. In exchange,” Here it comes, “we’ll have you to call for favors in the future.”     

            Krei laughed, humor lost in his voice. So that was it. Yama was probably in trouble of some sort to make that deal. Money was a one way move. Job, payment and then nothing. Connections of any sort meant that the parties involved would be tied down to each other. In a crime world, it was far from desired.

            But the microbot… Krei huffed. He would undoubtly call for Yama one day in the future for another favor. It was best to get it over with.

            “Deal.”

            Yama laughed into the receiver.

            “Perfect. Then, let me tell you about this intel….”

 

            “Shao? Shao! Wake up already! Shaaoooooo~!”

            A groan escaped her lips as she turned over into her blankets. The bed was so comfy, she didn’t even want to leave. But someone kept pushing at her back, calling her name.

            “Shao! Come on; I saw you open your eyes. We’re already here! We have to get up at some point, you know?”

            How irritating. Couldn’t this person tell that she needed her beauty sleep? She’d just have to tell them off. Grumpily, she rose from her comfy nest of blankets.

            “Shao, let’s go! We’re here!”

            Where exactly was this here? She hesitated to open her eyes—it felt too bright. Couldn’t this just be a dream while she catches some more z’s? With dry lips (gross), she peeled her tongue from the roof of her mouth to speak.

            “Where? San Fransokyo of course!”

            Oh.

            _Oh._

Crud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short. I've been struggling with inspiration recently regarding this fic, but I'm determined to finish it. 
> 
> ... It doesn't feel very popular though. I hope all readers are enjoying it at least!


	12. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A recap featuring character summaries, terminology and a [ poll.](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1FPPFoxXYe8esej2ybAzRkyQz8F51hs5yrF2uIDF6gtU/viewform#start=openform)

Interlude: Character Guide and Terminology

 

[Don't forget to fill in the poll!](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1FPPFoxXYe8esej2ybAzRkyQz8F51hs5yrF2uIDF6gtU/viewform#start=openform)

 

**San Fransokyo Inhabitants**

★ Tadashi Hamada

Age: 18 -> 19, near 19

Status: Head Witch of San Fransokyo

Equipment:      Wand (standard from council)

                         Necklace with charms (from someone from council as gift)

                        Staff (found in family bank; Owned by deceased witch, Kevin)

                        _Witch: The guidebook 15 th edition _ (A present from the council)

            Tadashi remains kind and caring as his movie version, but his separation from Hiro and his struggles as a leader have revealed that he can get lost in thought, is overprotective and has insecurities regarding his new role. Head Witch by default, Tadashi takes his protective role seriously- the city (and Hiro by default) is most important to him. He wishes that he could stay with Hiro and friends, but his caring and logical nature make his new lifestyle a priority. Under the guidance of Mrs. Matsuda, Tadashi is currently training to be the best witch he can be.

            Tadashi has an affinity for fire, thunder, light and vivification magic. He lacks limiters from the council, which leads to difficulty controlling the damage he causes. It has also led him to a habit of dependence of his magic over mind in battle, which is exploited in his combat with Yokai/Callaghan.

 

★ Mochi

Age: ?

Status: Familiar to Tadashi, current Head Witch of San Fransokyo.

            Mochi is the family cat for the Hamadas, though he is actually a familiar for Tadashi. Mochi’s split tail, an indication for a nekomata, only appears at Tadashi’s command. He acts as a caretaker for the Hamada siblings, and has quite a few friends in the magic district. His age is unknown, as well as his history with magic, but he doesn’t seem to be a very positive reputation. It has been revealed that punishment tied Mochi to the Hamada family, but his affection for them keeps him there. He has connections to the council, but doesn’t seem to have an overly positive opinion of them.

 

★Hiro Hamada

Age: 15

Status: Depressed future hero

            Hiro Hamada is a typical genius teenager on his way to college who is also a superhero in the making. He doesn’t seem to be aware of Mochi’s identity as Tadashi’s familiar, nor Tadashi’s abilities. As a son and brother of magic individuals, he ordinarily should have magic but Hiro has never displayed any form of magic when he was young. He is currently trying to create a set of armors for him and his team to avenge Tadashi, with the help of Baymax.

 

★Aunt Cass

Age: Don’t you know better than to ask a grown woman that question?

Status: Caring

            Mostly out of the loop, Aunt Cass really just wants to care for the Hamada brothers. She is a bit curious as to why Mochi keeps disappearing from the café, but he faithfully returns home at night. Aunt Cass wishes that Hiro would open up to her about their loss, but she understands that he needs time. She did too, when she lost her sister.

 

★ Mrs. Momo Matsuda

Age: Don’t be rude to elders.

Status: Retired Witch, teacher to Tadashi

            Momo Matsuda is a retired witch who seems to have distaste for the Council. She cares for Tadashi, though whether it is familial or something else is lost. A good friend of Mochi, Mrs. Matsuda doesn’t seem to go out often; she’s quite content to enjoy some food and tea at home. She appears to be (in?)famous amongst San Fransokyo for her past deeds, but Tadashi’s no really sure why. She seems nice enough now, anyway.

 

★ Ronald

Age: 73

Status: Old

            A strange man who appeared lifeless the first time Tadashi met him. He appears to be friends with Mrs. Matsuda, though Tadashi can’t imagine why. Despite his name, he does not regularly consume McDonalds.

 

★ Ethel (GoGo) Tomago

Age: 19

Status: Future hero

            A student at San Fransokyo Institute of Technology who specializes in speed. Gogo lives a fast life, always raring to go. As such, she frequently worked on her projects to the dead of night in order to finish as soon as possible, which often resulted in her and Tadashi staying up far later than their friends.  Since his death, Gogo has agreed to avenge her friend. Despite her quick talking and blunt personality, Gogo is a kind, almost sisterly figure to her close friends.

 

★ Honey Lemon

Age: 20

Status: Future hero

            A student at San Fransokyo Institute of Technology in love with fashion and chemistry. Honey Lemon (affectionately called just Honey sometimes) is energetic and fun-loving. She used to force her friends to go shopping, except for Fred who went willingly, and was the most sociable of the group. She was Tadashi’s social advisor, though she often claimed that he didn’t need any advice. After his death, she’s joined Hiro to beat Yokai. She’s a bit worried about the situation, but she’s pushing down her fears to deal the best she can.

 

★ Wasabi No-Ginger

Age: 19->20

Status: Future hero (not fully willingly)

            Yet another student at San Fransokyo Institute of Technology, Wasabi specializes in plasma and precise experiments. He’s well aware of how some people spread rumors about his appearance and “neat freak” status, but his friends have helped him handle it. After Tadashi’s death, Wasabi has been pushing himself to become more courageous like he imagines Tadashi would have liked him to be. At times, he can even imagine Tadashi giving him a little push. He’s currently focusing on minimizing his lasers for new armor.

 

★ Fred(erick)

Age: 19

Status: Future hero (very willingly)

            The mascot for San Fransokyo Institute of Technology, Fred is an energetic, fanatic male. He enjoys charity work and literature, and due to his bouncy personality, became quick and close friends with Honey Lemon and Tadashi. He aspires to be a hero, likely due to his father’s influence. After Tadashi’s death, he became certain to deliver justice. He has a wild imagination and a broad view of the world.

 

★ Heathcliff

Age: ?

Status: Butler

            Frederick’s main butler. He’s very responsible and patient in caring for his master. It appears that he has amazing eye sight, as he spotted Tadashi and Mochi in the sky before.

 

★ Baymax

Age: 12 years in thought, ten months sixteen days in ability to think and act

Status: Enchanted Robot

            Tadashi’s main project throughout college. Baymax is a health care companion that wishes to tend to Hiro, and can somehow track the supernatural. It is currently being measured for new armor from Hiro. Baymax’s chip is incredibly durable, though it’s unknown why. Recently, Tadashi has begun calling Baymax a “he”, though Tadashi isn’t sure why.

 

★ Sharlee

Age: 43

Status: Angry Imp

            A red-skinned, jeweled and horned imp who works for the San Fransokyo bank. Sharlee is quite the gossip, and often very crude in her statements, which may be a result of her poor English speaking as she uses a translator. She seems to be annoyed with Mochi. Due to her gossiping trait, Sharlee is often up to date on the city’s thoughts regarding Tadashi, and relays said thoughts to Mochi.

 

★ Robert Callaghan (Yokai)

Age: 52

Status: Desperate

            After losing his daughter to an experiment-gone-wrong, Callaghan has gone from kind, fatherly professor to cruel, determined Yokai. He is willing to do anything to get vengeance on the man he blames for his daughter Abigail’s death, including drowning a few students. He doesn’t remember his interactions with Tadashi due to Mochi’s interference, but he is aware that his body aches for reasons he can’t remember. Luckily for Tadashi and Mochi, he’s too focused on Krei than to research about what had occurred.

 

★ Alistair Krei

Age: 42

Status: Rich

            The CEO of Krei Tech, Alistair Krei is all too willing to get his hands on new technology. He prefers to do it legally, and is willing to give up a good deal when he can’t get consent, but microbots are an amazing deal that he’s willing to pull a few strings for. Mr. Krei has done illegal actions in the past, but it was all for the good of furthering his business. His current goal is a microbot, though he’s not too pleased with what he has to do to get it.

 

★ Yama

Age: 36

Status: No longer in prison

            A member of the yakuza, Yama is a greedy criminal who hates to lose. He’s ready to do anything for money, and is all too willing to throw others into dangerous situations instead of doing it himself. His main source of power comes from his relationship with the Geisha Girls, who are infamous for their work. Yama is currently trying to form bonds with Krei for future jobs, as well as getting vengeance on a certain Hiro Hamada for getting him caught by the police.

 

★ Sakura

Age: 27

Status: Geisha Girl

            A member of the Geisha Girls, Sakura is a good worker of Yama who enjoys toying with her “prey” with her collection of knives. She seems to have a negative history with Krei, judging from her disinterest in taking his jobs. She managed to see a match between Yokai and Tadashi, and appears to have kept her memories. Her target has stayed constant: Kill Hiro Hamada, and take his microbots.

 

**Council of Witches**

★ Head Witch

Age: ?

Status: Head Witch

            The Head Witch knows all. She appears to have an eye on Tadashi, and has sent a witch to test him.

 

★ Naomi

Age: ?

Status: Witch in Training, Mizuchi

            A witch in training who may have been a witch before, killed and reborn as a demon, and killed again to be reborn as a Mizuchi witch or just a witch under a temporary spell that was later healed. Naomi isn’t quite sure what her past life was like—she’s more concerned about the present. As a Mizuchi, she specializes in water and ice magic. She is worried about the revival of hunts, though she places her task of testing Tadashi to be first priority. Though to be honest, she’s a little excited for a vacation in the big city as well.

 

★ Shao T.

Age: 134

Status: Worried Yukionna

            An experienced witch who cares for Naomi. Unlike her junior partner, Shao is well aware of San Fransokyo’s violent history, and worries about temporarily residing in such a city. Shao, despite her being a yukionna, can be hot-tempered and blunt. After researching more into San Fransokyo, Shao has decided that it would be best for her and Naomi to get their mission done as soon as possible. Her fear of the Council of Witches possibly punishing her for skipping out on her job is only a part of the reason, honest.

 

**Deceased**

★ Mr. Hamada and Mrs. Hamada

Ages: 32 and 34 at time of death

Status: Dead

            The Hamada parents were kind and resourceful in their job. Mr. Hamada was a witch from the start, working hard to become the Head Witch of San Fransokyo. Mrs. Hamada came along for the ride. Her status is unknown.

 

★ Richard

Age: ?

Status: Dead

            A witch in San Fransokyo who died during the Hunting. Mochi and Mrs. Matsuda seem to be knowledgeable about him. He is said to be related to Tadashi’s current staff.

 

★ Kevin

Age: ?

Status: Dead

            A witch in San Fransokyo who died during the Hunting. Mochi and Mrs. Matsuda seem to be knowledgeable about him. He is said to be related to Tadashi’s current staff.

 

★ Abigail Callaghan

Age: 19

Status: Not actually dead

            Thought to be dead and widely considered to be so, Abigail is in deep sleep somewhere in teleportation space. Let’s hope she gets saved.

 

**Spells:**

            “Thunder and Fire, Listen to my Desire.” [Often used by Tadashi. It casts twin dragons made of fire and thunder respectively. An easy spell to cast, and can be used repeatedly in succession.]

            “Enter the World of Witches.” [A spell used before engaging in battle that is predicted to cause damage. Recited commonly amongst beginning witches, but instinctive for most.]

            “Prison Break.” [A spell that can only be used with certain familiars and after “Enter the World of Witches.” It closes a barrier to allow for reparation to the affected area.]

            “Do not fear what is behind the gate. What you see is your fate. Move forth.” [A spell used for binding and transporting powerful demons that can’t be dealt with normally. These creatures are transported to the council to deal with.]

            “Trinity Arrow.” [A spell summoning three arrows of light. Powerful and quick to cast.]

            “Repent for your sins.” [A spell that is specific to the staff Tadashi uses. It varies in form, but its full ability transforms the staff into a bow with infinite arrows. It is a light spell and quite famous.]

 

**Terminology:**

★ Familiar: A partner, traditionally an animal, who serves as “insurance”. In an ideal situation, the familiar would be close friends with the witch. These creatures usually have some ability of their own, and aid in communication with the Council of Witches and their partner.

★ Geisha Girls: A group of geisha who work in the red light district for the yakuza. They have a reputation for the destruction they cause.

★ Head Witch: It has two meanings. The first meaning is the Head Witch of the Witch Council, who is revered by all and whose words are law. The second meaning refers to the witch in charge of a city, area or country in extreme circumstances.

★ Hunters: People who live a lifestyle of hunting down supernatural beings. They used to be praised for their success, but now their main followers are Supernatural fans. That being said, most Hunters are kind, respectful beings who just dabble in learning about the extraordinary. Only a few actively go out and kill.

★ Hunts: The killing of many by hunters. In the past, witches were often the target of hunts. Third world countries still have many hunts, but large cities are no safe zones either. Large, successful witch hunts usually only occur once every twenty years.

★ Key Witch: A witch who works for the Council of Witches, directly under the Head Witch. Their main purpose is to manage reports, requests and forms of communication, but they also act as idols to the common witch to aspire to become. Each Key Witch is carefully picked out before being granted a seat in the Council.

★ Limiter: A tool given by the council to witches when they first begin. It’s intended to reduce the magical output of said witches, and can be seen in action when it minimizes the destructive effects of spells.

★ Magical Output: Witches naturally excrete magic in the form of strings, unseen to the typical but track-able. These strings can also be manipulated for spells. Magical Output is often considered dangerous as it has a history of leading witches to their deaths, because it can be traced by hunters.

★ Mizuchi: Water serpents often thought to be similar to water deities in Japanese mythology. They are sometimes called dragons, and are said to be adapted from Chinese mythology.

★ Nekomata: Cats with a split tail. They are said in Japanese mythology to shape-shift into humans, curse humans, manipulate the dead, kill people, possess them and lurk in mountains or rivers to attack travelers.

★ Witch Council: The government for witches. It appears to be a democracy, but is actually a dictatorship. Its initial purpose was to organize tasks and manage communication; huntings have forced it to become a military base.

★ Yukionna: A snow yokai, typically a woman. In Japanese Mythology, she is said to have been a beautiful woman who died in the snow, and mercilessly kills others as she had been. In modern times, she is often depicted in a kinder, gentle manner.

 

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Mcsauces for suggesting a break with character profiles. The next chapter "Connections made" is already being written.
> 
> Don't forget to fill in the google poll! I'll remain open until the chapter after the next.
> 
> Still confused about characters? Notice an error or have a theory? Share!


	13. Connections Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13: Connections Made
> 
> Please read end notes!

“San Fransokyo? Now? Here?”

            Shao sputtered, suddenly alert. The train ride had been long and uneventful, especially for one who was used to monitoring weather guardians, cities and on the rare occasion, performing. She had quickly surrendered to the temptation of sleep, lulled by the sounds of the rails. Now, it seemed like a mistake.

            “Are you alright Shao? You’re not quite awake yet, right?”

            That was an understatement. Why was she here, in San Fransokyo? Hadn’t she resolved to never return after the nightmare that was the Hunting? Yes, she had sworn to herself that she would never come to such a horrid place again.

            “Okay Shao, sleepy or not we have to get off. They have to clean the train.”

            The gentle prompting aroused Shao’s memory. She and Naomi had agreed to come here for a purpose that had no relation to the Hunting. That’s right—there was nothing to fear here. It would be fine.

            “Oh, I can’t wait to take a look around! I used to have family in San Fransokyo, you know. Well, at least I’m supposed to. Maria never really told me much about myself before recreation. Ooh, what if we run into one of my descendants!”

            Family. Shao had family here once. The majority had moved away to reinforce cities in other parts of the globe, but a branch of the tree remained in San Fransokyo. Just years before, Shao had even visited during the Hunting to protect them. It was the thought of having to fight for her children’s lives that turned her away from the city.

            But to Shao’s knowledge, her family hadn’t moved after the attack. Few people still had remnants of the power that course through Shao’s blood cold veins, which meant no reason to leave. But still, a part of her tugged, wanting to find her children. She had played aunt to many, weren’t there still a few remaining?

            “You have kids here, Shao? How nice!” Naomi beamed at Shao, picking up on the low murmurs of the snow demon. She hadn’t caught most of it, and ignored the mentions of the nightmare in San Fransokyo, but even she couldn’t resist the curiosity of family. Witch families tended to be fully involved in magic, or fragmented from the start.

            “They’re not my kids. I left long before I could mate, but the same doesn’t hold true for my siblings. I had a sister, once. A brother too, but he disappeared long ago,” Shao slowed as she spoke, staring at the tiles beneath her feet. Her family had been nice enough, especially given the social standards at the time. But she hadn’t been a fan even then.

            “So, nieces? Nephews? Still nice, Shao! Maaaannn,” Naomi sighed dramatically, flipping hair over her shoulders lazily as she spun in place. Shao raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, allowing Naomi to finish whatever crazy thoughts she had. “I wish I could meet my nieces and nephews. Oh! Oh! Imagine this: our kids are best, bestest friends!” Naomi grinned, flinging her hands out as she spoke.

            “No thanks.” Shao deadpanned. “I don’t think they would be friends—and I said that I didn’t have any kids! You were listening, weren’t you?”

            “Maaayybeee,” Naomi teased. It was weird bantering with Shao when the second was so unresponsive; normally, it was Shao who started the teasing. Ever since they set foot on the journey to San Fransokyo, Shao had been nervous and overly strict.

            “Well, it’s fine anyway. My descendents and your nieces and nephews can still be the best of friends! Just. Like. Us!”

            Shao rolled her eyes at the emphasis on the words, but she couldn’t stop the smile on her face. Naomi was more than just a best friend to Shao. She was like her little sister, her best friend and a sun in her day all wrapped up in a single package. In an alternate universe in a safer life, Shao might have even courted Naomi.

            “They’re technically not my nieces or nephews. Try great, great grandniece and grandnephew. And I don’t even know if they exist, much less where they live,” Shao retorted. She gripped the handle of her luggage and began pulling, exiting the train and pointedly ignoring the exasperated looks of the train crew as they bustled in to clean the car.

            “No matter how old, it’s the same for you, isn’t it?” Naomi poked cheekily. Shao gave an exaggerated sigh, moving faster to keep Naomi pacing to keep up. She shouldn’t have mentioned her siblings or children in the first place.

            “Well, do you want to find out?” Naomi questioned, realizing that Shao wasn’t willing to discuss too much more detail. She jolted when Shao came to a sudden stop, before walking again at a much slower pace. The two walked in silence to the exit of the train station, throwing out their tickets as they left. Luggage wheels clattering, and shoes clacking, the two exited.

            “I don’t know. It’s been so long since I’ve talked to family. Well,” Shao eyed Naomi as the water witch beamed, “I guess you could count. Maybe. On a good day.” Naomi’s eyes widened at the statement, and she didn’t bother hiding her wide grin. Feeling a rush of energy, she skipped forward and brandished her wand.

            “We should find them then! It’ll be a puzzle hunt! I’ll be Sherlock, and you can be Watson!” There was no mocking in her tone as she brought her wand upward. The station was nearly empty now excluding the cleaning crew, but the few slow walkers stilled in their movements as Naomi spoke. Her voice seemed to grow louder and louder as she spoke, eyes shining.

            “Let’s go find your kids, Shao! Or, oops—great, great grandnieces and nephews!” Shao rolled her eyes good-heartedly as she moved forward, ready to bring down Naomi from whatever cloud she marched on. She hadn’t been expecting for Naomi to actually do something with her wand.

            “C’mon! Naomi! Shao!” Naomi dug into her pocket, revealing a chain of beads. From said chain hung a series of charms, crafted by hand. She smirked as she thumbed a blue charm—a bird with two wide wings encased in a circle. A sparrow. The charm was lit with light emerging from her wand, and Naomi laughed.

            “Take us to descendants!”

            The two were gone.

 

            It’s frustrating in every sense of the word.

            Hiro groans, slamming his head onto the desk. It makes a thump, and normally Tadashi would be falling over himself to rush over at the noise. But he’s no longer here, which means Hiro is alone to lament about armor designs (what does Fred even want?) and the icon.

            It doesn’t actually mean anything, he’s certain. But the thought isn’t enough to stop him from researching further.

            The icon itself isn’t so interesting. It’s a bird set firmly in a ring. The wings overlap the outer circle, but for all Hiro knows it might be a design aspect or an identifier for the bird. But what bird would be known for overlapping wings and rings? Is it meant to be ironic- rhyming words? Or is it a trapped animal in a cage, flying to freedom on its outskirts but still chained on the inside?

            From a distance, it looks a bit like the yin-yang symbol, if it was messed around with. Closer, the bird’s body is somewhat clear. On when Hiro magnifies the image does the bird itself come out clearly.

            Actually, couldn’t that be a signal? Or a symbol? Hiro furrows into a ball at the foot of his desk, clutching at the table, and thinking. Perhaps the bird itself is a distraction, and the main focus is the blurring into place? Is the masked man, Kabuki as Fred named him, actually a da-da artist who is getting vengeance on the world? Does that mean Krei is a da-da artist who failed in life? Sad man. A bit of Hiro would pity him if it wasn’t for the fact that Krei is a multi-billionaire who deserves no pity.

            On another note, is the bird even flying? The awkward angle of the bird doesn’t look like a natural bird in flight, which brings even more to discussion. Perhaps this is another symbol that Hiro has been missing the whole time- the symbol of obscurity. Or much more likely, a symbol that Hiro really needs to stop trying to find symbols of a bird in a ring.

            But the bird in the ring needs to have some meaning. It’s probably Krei’s partner in crime. Hiro muses, tapping a pen against his desk. He hadn’t seen Krei in the Kabuki mask interacting with any friend of a sort, but he certainly saw Krei interact with people outside of the mask. Didn’t he have an assistant? A nice, tall assistant who had Asian features…?

            It fit. Almost a little too well, which is exactly what’s bugging Hiro. Nothing is meant to be so easy, especially of a person who can cause giant fires, _kill people_ and go loose with a weapon. It’s too simple.

            But if the photo he stole from Honey’s phone tells him anything, it’s that this is as close as he can get to the answer of this case. Krei is in the middle, illuminated by the moon, beady tentacles made of microbots in the air. It’s easy to focus on the foreboding center presence, but that isn’t why Hiro transferred the image. It’s the upper right corner.

            He never really cared about ecology or astrology, but even Hiro knows that the moon comes out as light, round and one color from Earth with no magnification. The moon in the picture? Light, round and a big black blotch in the center.

            At first he hadn’t been sure what he was looking at. Cameras, as advanced as they’ve become, still blur the edges of photos in warped lighting. It is completely possible that Honey’s picture just suffered under some bad trembling or angling; totally understandable when faced against a super villain in Hiro’s expert opinion. But Honey Lemon is a fantastic photographer, and the other half of the photo is too clear for it to be a simple cameraman mistake.

            So the black blotch, blown up and examined pixel by pixel, is a very awkward silhouette of something… or someone. They’re unnervingly thin in the top compared to the bottom, where there is suddenly a bulky blob of black. Not to mention that they’re either wearing a very unfashionable hat or they have a really, really weird head. The long thin black lines hanging off the person doesn’t help figuring out what’s clothing and what’s not, as well as the awkward blur on their face. Even zoomed in, the face is one mess of blacks and browns, and it’s impossible to distinguish a feature on it. Had Hiro not known Honey, he would have just assumed the photographer messed around with the picture. But Hiro does, which means this person must have been wearing something covering.

            Does that mean that it is Krei’s assistant? Hiro would like to pretend that it’s a one-man army, but the loyal guy or girl is the only person who comes to mind as someone Krei would trust enough to go murdering with. The two would be the perfect partners in crime, in day or night.

            But that brings another problem. The assistant, whatever their name is, should have been present in helping Krei take down the six of them (yes, Hiro is including Baymax). But Krei alone had chased them around town and back to the docks. They had their hands full with one; Hiro can’t imagine how the crew would have survived with two.

            In fact, there wasn’t anything he can think of that Krei couldn’t do alone. His microbots were made to do everything that one can think of- why would Krei need his assistant to help outside of the original theft? Is that it? Does the assistant do nothing but provide moral support now that they have their rewards? But then why would they be present with Krei in the photo?

            Hiro groaned, banging his head against the desk. This thinking wasn’t bringing him anywhere- he’d need to do some work that would result in actual progress. With a sigh, he pulled up Wasabi’s suit design. Time to get cracking.

 

            “Darn cat. Stupid cat. Idiot cat. Gross cat. Eurgh… CAT!”

            Sharlee hissed, tail swishing side by side as she stomped uptown. Through the eyes of a normal human, she probably looked just a grouchy ten year old who seemed to be upset over a lost kitten or another. To a being that could actually see her… well, they moved out of her way fast enough.

            With every step, her hair ornaments clattered and shook, jingling against each other in her tussled hair. The ground felt heated under her feet despite it being relatively cool and windy in the morning—a delayed effect of the ground reabsorbing the energy released from a disturbance. For most people it was just the weather being crazy every once in a while. For Sharlee it was a clear sign of a certain someone breaking her promise in record time.

            “Though, I did tell him that he wouldn’t be able to do it. Shouldn’t have put any trust in a criminal like that…” Sharlee grumbled, hands unfurling and clenching. Her bangles clattered, drawing attention from the moving crowds of tourists and businessmen in San Fransokyo. Why had she come to reside in such a busy city plagued by mistakes anyway?

            Speaking of mistakes, the cat had failed to cover his trail even a little. The path was clear as day and startlingly so.

            It looked like silver. At a distance, anyone could see it as a glowing cord of white. Upon closer observation, the shine seemed to be embedded in the ground. For a being like her, the path’s illumination could be seen from a rooftop.

            They called it magic output.

            It’s usually a barely visible strand of color, strung from point to point as thin as silk. But occasionally, when someone gets a bit too powerful for their inhibitors, it leaks out. The strands comb together, bounded by a similar creator, weaving into a long chain of authority. It’s the sign of someone who is a dominating force, unafraid to give off their presence to any challenger, knowing that they’d win easily.

            She’s seen enough of the trail in her lifetime to recognize it when it goes a little haywire. Tadashi’s strings aren’t neatly folded, aren’t composed in a single line. It skits from side to side, curling into its self messily, and when she kicks the side the strings come flaying loose. It clings to the pavement like a bug, twitching with life and energy, and she wants to devour it. The strings quiver when she stomps down hard, still hissing over broken promises, and she moves on.

            It should be noted that just as powerful witches who look for trouble spill out their magic with no care, others are more inclined to be secluded. Hidden in the messy folds of the battle-hungry, some prefer to string up their output into small bundles, sheltered from preying eyes. It’s smart, smarter at least than those who let themselves be beaten for a little fun. It’s a learned skill that usually comes after the beating. And it’s usually only noted by specialized hunters.

            Which is why when Sharlee finds a household layered with strings, glistening and bold, she expects there to be one inhabitant. She predicts that Tadashi will be sitting inside, perhaps forlorn, holding Mochi. She even hopes that Mochi will somehow have settled the situation already.

            She doesn’t expect for a hollow shell of a man to be sitting on the doorstep, panting, in the hands of a disgusting woman.

            It’s disgusting in every sense of the word. The man, if it can even be called that in its current condition, is grinning shamelessly, gripping tight to the woman’s leg. Its eyes remain glossy, head thrown over to the side. The woman is speaking something, and his legs rotate in lull when there is a pause to intake breath. The drunken movements are odd, though they’re not the cause of concern.

            It’s the strings _in_ its body that’s the problem. Sharlee had never seen binding outside of old book descriptions and museum photographs; the reality is sickening both in idea and practice. The strings tie loosely around its limbs, wrapping over and over creating locks and puzzles. Invisible to the average eye, they hook over nothing and strain, threads peeling and forming with ease. His arms seem bound though there is nothing visible there, and his neck is almost certainly broken in that angle. Yet he gives a rumbling laugh at something, and the shaking vibrations in his body are almost more disgusting than the strings that pierce the movement.

            They come from his mouth. His crooked jaw, jostling as he laughs, is overflowing with saliva covered thread. It reminds Sharlee of a spider’s prey, neatly wrapped for its grave and ready to devour. The shameless display of dominance is something uncivilized, and it spooks her.

            The worst is the woman.

            She’s grinning at the man, laughing along. They’re curled together, seemingly romantic to the blind eye, but Sharlee knows better. Even without her sight, she can feel the rumbling disruptions in the air, as the vibrations of _wrong_ carry through the string.

            It’s illegal as far as she knows. Binding was reserved for punishment, far back when people had begun to notice the differences between them and her. It was when her kind was no longer just an illustration in a book, but a disgrace as detailed in the rising beliefs of humanity. Sharlee is too young to have known or suffer under the discrimination, but she’s well aware of her history. At that time, the difference between witches and humans were too little to care for. The difference between her kind: short, red and powerful; and humanity was made openly. It was then that bindings were made.

            But it didn’t grow famous until hundreds of years ago, after those beings claimed too different had gone into hiding and witches hadn’t been secret enough, when the first trials began. Hunts happened regardless of time frame, but it wasn’t until the 1600s that they were wide spread and supported. Humanity picks and pulls at other creatures; every difference come to light is one to be proud of. By then, the difference was just enough to inspire a cleansing.

            Bindings were made for protection; made as a form of defense because nature ensures that the world is dangerous for all, by all. It was reserved for times of trial and times of fear, when justice ruled over sympathy and tears could be hidden behind a blindfold. It was made as a last resort. It was made when even death wouldn’t be enough.

            “Hello?”

            Sharlee jolts, turns and raises her fists for a smack down before she registers the voice. It’s a man walking down the block, phone pinched between shoulder and ear as he speaks. His eyes face forward past the street he’s on, route well planned. He’s well past her position on the wall when his eyes light up and he spits out his sentence in a jumble.

            “Isthatso? Uh, is that so? Really, guarantee?” There’s a wide smile on his face, curling in the corners. He’s nearly past the house now, when he turns to the woman and man on the porch and waves. Sharlee can see the strings above him, twisting as his hand swishes from side to side. The barely there displacement of air is enough to cause one string to snap, falling to the floor. It squirms for a moment, than lays flat.

            “Have a nice evening!” The woman calls back. Her voice is high, stuck below squeaky and nearly auto-tuned. She waves too, joyously, hand stroking the man who lies in her lap. Sharlee’s peering over, staring at the business man and the inhuman one, when he jerks her way. The sharp slap of leather soles against the street isn’t enough to drown out the sound of strings, buzzing as they slip along each other. The lines of barely visible shine collapse into a cover of silver.

            They hit the floor with a slap, narrowly missing Sharlee as she ducks back. The strings are screeching as they weigh on another, creating lumps in the block of color. The business man keeps speaking into his phone, his voice barely audible under the sounds of his shoes. The silver strings creak.

            “Marty? Are you there? Marty? Answer the phone, dang it!” He snaps; his next step a stomp. The strings shake with the movement, and Sharlee watches with an open mouth as they stir and slither into a cone. It dips under it floats on the top of his head, dusting softly against the highest locks. The man stops and turns.

            He stares at nothing but a kind couple on the stairs, laughing. Curious, he runs his fingers in his hair. Nothing.

            The man resumes his conversation. He walks to the end of the block and continues. He reaches the next street, pauses at the stop sign and straightens his shoulders when the person on his phone choses to return to the conversation. Four blocks later, he thanks nobody when the light turns red and he crosses without a wait.

            Sharlee stares at the dot of silver, curled around his left index finger, caught on trees and street signs and a lock of hair. The thread is infinite.

            She turns from the house and runs.

            Sharlee ignores the tugging weight on her back with closed eyes and bitten through lips.

            “Why is someone like that lingering around Tadashi and cat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a bland chapter in my opinion. But no worries, working on something big!  
> Over the next month I'll be updating this work with many things!
> 
> 1) There are two ties and not just between two characters in the [ poll](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1FPPFoxXYe8esej2ybAzRkyQz8F51hs5yrF2uIDF6gtU/viewform#start=openform) ! Which means that not only am I reminding you to vote in the poll, but if you voted already, revote and let's see if the ties break. The effects should come into play by the chapter after the next.
> 
> 2) Fanart! As you may have noticed from the new tags, I'll be updating this work with art throughout the chapters. One chapter will be pretty much filled with art, but otherwise I'll be adding art/gifs to certain parts of the fanfic. It'll either be all or mostly my work, but there might be a few edits here and there if it's necessary. To get a sneakpeak, chapter 1 has already been updated.
> 
> 3) This fic will be split into two fics. This one will end with the movie plot, and the second will go on with something secret. It's been written out somewhat, but this one will definitely be finished by the movie plot and probably around 20-25 chapters.
> 
> 4) The rating and warnings of this fic will be changed in the next 3-4 chapters. Just a warning in advance.
> 
> Thanks for reading and keeping up with this fic! Comments, kudos and poll votes are appreciated!


	14. Heritage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 14: Heritage  
> Tarot card readings, screaming radishes, magical robots and robotic dogs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poll results are out! Read the end notes to find out what has changed, what hasn't.

            “Okay, okay if you get an upside down Nine of Wands… that can mean, uh” Honey Lemon bit her lip as she skimmed the open book. Between her and Wasabi lay a table covered in mostly facedown cards, except one. The Nine of Wands lay face up, a smiling woman in the middle holding the wands in her arms as one would a baby. It would be a good picture for Wasabi, but the fact that it was upside down was a little less positive.

            “Ugh,” Gogo groaned, overlooking the two on the couch. She was sitting on the handle, kicking up one leg when she felt it numb. This was boring. Hiro was working with Fred at the moment, meaning the rest of the group was stuck on the couch. Honey Lemon and Wasabi could entertain themselves with colorful cards all they wanted—Gogo knew that cards couldn’t tell the future.

            Her only companion was the Hamada’s cat Mochi. The fat furball sat on the floor, probably napping. Despite her harsh phrasing, Gogo was secretly pleased to see Mochi’s peaceful body. At least some people (or animals) got sleep around here.

            “Ah-hah!” Honey Lemon enthused, jumping forward to show Wasabi the meaning of his reading. The two bent over the table, book crashing over the cards and scattering them. Swallowing an “oops”, Honey Lemon gestured to the definition in the book before shuffling to gather the cards.

            “Let’s see here,” Wasabi narrated, much to Gogo’s annoyance, “Nine of Wands… right side up means courage, resilience or test of faith,” Wasabi gave Honey Lemon a look of disbelief, but she only threw back a wink as she continued collecting fallen cards, “but upside down, it means… oh haha.”

            “Well? What did I say? Accurate, or accurate?” Smug fit Honey Lemon surprisingly well, and Gogo couldn’t help but grin at the uncharacteristic display. Wasabi appeared to be pouting, but it was usually Fred or Gogo herself that caused the man to frown.

            “What did he get?” Curiosity got the best of her.

            “Upside down Nine of Wands means hesitant, paranoia and or being on edge. Accurate, right?” Honey Lemon smirked, jabbing a finger at Wasabi’s worried expression. Realizing that he was being watched, Wasabi tried to fix his face as neutral. Key word: tried. Gogo chuckled, amused.

            “We don’t even know if it’s right. Who believes in tarot cards anyway?” Wasabi muttered, mostly to himself. But Honey Lemon huffed and drew herself up to her full height of six foot one with heels at his words.

            “I do! And it is accurate! Gogo, you agree right?”

            Gogo opened her mouth to answer, when the side door to the garage slammed open to reveal a giddy Fred and a grinning Hiro. While smug was unusual on Honey, Hiro adored wearing the look. Combined with his short stature and boyish expression, it was an unusually effective attack. Objectively speaking, of course.

            “What are we do—oh woAH, dudes and dudettes, are those tarot cards?” Fred yelled, pointing at the remaining few cards still stuck to the carpet. Grinning sheepishly as she scrambled to pick them up, Honey Lemon nodded.

            “Tarot cards? You’re kidding right?” Hiro interjected, crossing his arms as he spoke.

            “Not you too!” Honey Lemon whined, pulling up the rest of the cards to her hands. The deck fit snugly between her fingers as she drew them upwards. “Come on, Hiro. Just one try, please?”

            “I don’t think so. I don’t believe in that kind of stuff anymore. Moved on from Mr. Sparkles and Tadashi’s card tricks,” Hiro rolled his eyes. Fred scoffed at that, moving forward.

            “I volunteer!” Honey Lemon squealed, setting herself back on the couch as she did with Wasabi.

            “Then come on, let’s do it!” Gogo groaned to herself when Fred chose to join Honey in her squealing. Fred had no right to hit such high notes.

            “Come on guys, you don’t really believe in this right?” Hiro repeated his doubt, but even as he spoke he edged closer to the table to watch. Wasabi, despite his earlier protests, joined him.

            “I don’t really believe in it either. But, it is subjective,” Wasabi offered as middleman. Honey Lemon huffed as she began shuffling the deck, warning Fred to tell her beforehand when to stop.

            “Wasabi just doesn’t want to believe the truth, Hiro. I drew upside down Nine of Wands for him and he just refuses to believe it! I mean, I get him not liking the first card but still…” Honey Lemon could have bit her tongue at the look Wasabi shot her. He nervously darted his eyes at still figure to Hiro, but unluckily it was Fred who picked up on the slip.

            “First card? Ooh, what was it? Can I see?” Fred questioned, poking at the turned cards on the table. Honey Lemon had paused in the middle of the spread, and instead picked at the next card on top of the deck.

            “Freddie, I can’t show it to you,” Honey’s smile was a bit too guilty for a simple card deck, “I don’t really remember which card it was either, so let’s just do yours okay?” Hiro shot her a suspicious look—Honey Lemon, majoring in chemistry and a whiz at formulas, does not just forget things.

            “Okay Fred, here. These three cards will help determine you in your past, present and future. Okay?” Fred nodded enthusiastically. Wasabi and Hiro peered at the spread, leaning in to get a better look over Honey Lemon and Fred’s hunched heads. Even Gogo swung her legs around, narrowly missing Mochi, to get a good view.

            “Okay, so you in the past is… upright seven of cups! And that means…” Honey Lemon trailed off, opening the book at her side again. The sound of flipping pages filled the room as five pairs of eyes were locked in on the card or the book. The pages hit each other with a thump as Honey Lemon located the term.

            “Seven of cups… upright, it means fantasy or wishful thinking! Freddie, that’s great!” Honey Lemon grinned, nearly slapping the table as she moved forward. Fred however did slap the table, shaking the cards as he whooped.

            “You know it, Honey! This is totally accurate!” Wasabi mumbled at the words, obviously still affected by his earlier reading. Gogo hid a smile at that—Wasabi could deny it all he wanted; he was still a worrywart.

            “What’s this one then?” Fred pointed at the middle card, grabbing it with one hand. Honey Lemon propped the book open again as she spoke, eying his hand as he slowly began to flip the card.

            “This is you now, Fred. It’s your present.”

            The card flipped over with a heavy thud. The room’s occupants paused as the sound of the falling card lay with no sounds of flipping pages. If anything, the only sound to be heard was the tightening of Honey Lemon’s breaths.

            “Isn’t that?” Wasabi started, bending over Hiro to get a better look. Hiro grunted at the sudden weight, escaping to the right as Wasabi and Honey Lemon stared, fixated, at the card.

            “Well? What is it?” He said, curious at their reactions. Even Gogo was transfixed at the sight of a stunned Honey Lemon and Wasabi. Well, Wasabi not so much.

            “It’s the fifth of cups. Face up it means,” Honey Lemon frowned, fingering the book in her hands, “it means loss, Freddie. Disappointment. It means despair.”

            Gogo wasn’t the only one to tighten her fingers at Honey Lemon’s tone when she explained the card. Hiro froze when she mentioned “loss”, and Fred looked unusually serious when she spoke.

            “I got that card for my present too,” Wasabi sighed, wiping a hand over his face. Hiro appeared to get even tenser; causing Honey Lemon to shoot him worried glances. He didn’t seem to notice, bringing slow hands to grip at the edge of the couch, staring into nothing. Gogo frowned at his stare, and opened her mouth to comment.

            “That’s cool! It means we’re on the same wavelength, right?” Fred shouted. Wasabi started at his sudden comment, while the rest simply chose to stare at him. Realizing that they weren’t joining in, Fred continued. “I mean, we’re going to be a team now right? Might as well get on the same note. Avengers! Yeah!”

            There was a pause, until Honey Lemon burst into hysterical giggles. Her laughter bordered on unnatural with the high pitch, but the squeaky quality only encouraged the others to follow. Gogo allowed herself a roll of eyes as she began to chuckle, and even Wasabi began to laugh. Fred roared, kicking his legs up. Hiro seemed to stare at them a moment more, and then he too began to chuckle.

            “Okay, okay! What’s his future then?” Wasabi spoke this time, pointing at the still unturned card on the table.

            “I got it!” Honey Lemon said, flipping over the card. Her frame still wracked with soft giggles as she cracked open the book again, flipping through the definitions. Gogo leaned over, peering down onto the card. Two people were illustrated to sit together, seeming to speak. They held hands and appeared to be smiling.

            “Upright three of pentacles,” Honey Lemon announced, beaming when she located the meaning, “it means teamwork, collaboration and learning. Oh Freddie, you were so right!” The mood had taken a complete 180 from the reveal of Fred’s present; all members of the room were grinning as they looked over the cards.

            “See? I told you guys, these totally work!” Fred was practically shining as he spoke. Wasabi conceded with a sigh as Honey Lemon nodded enthusiastically at his statement. She shifted her gaze to Gogo, but to her surprise the other girl only gave a half-hearted shrug.

            “Maybe you were just lucky. If those things really worked, wouldn’t we be learning about them in school?” Hiro said. Fred and Honey Lemon shared identical pouts at his words, until Fred beamed again.

            “Oh come on, Hiro! Don’t you believe in magic?” Honey Lemon perked up as Fred’s voice took on a melodic tone. Wasabi and Gogo shared a pained look as the mascot began to stand. Hiro at least deserved a warning, didn’t he?

            “Fred, no. Don’t you start!” Gogo interrupted, moving from the couch’s arm as she began to walk over. But Fred was already on his feet, swinging from side to side as he opened his mouth.

            “I’ll tell ya about magic! It’ll free your soul. But it’s like telling your stranger about rock n’ roll!” As Fred sang, he imitated an air guitar. Hiro shot surprised looks at Gogo and Wasabi, but the latter was shrugging helplessly at Fred while the former sat down again with an amused chuckle. Fred was going to sing his song no matter what they did.

            And so he did. Fred danced, sung and played air instruments throughout the song. By the end, Hiro was slouching along the couch in exasperation at Fred’s endless energy. It was like the secret billionaire had nothing better to do. And given Fred’s public appearance schedule, Hiro doubted it.

            The occupants of the room burst into applause as Fred finished. Honey Lemon clapped and whooped enthusiastically while Gogo have a slow clap that would be insulting if it came from anyone other than her. Wasabi was a bit more energetic in his applause, seeming to calm from his earlier state. Hiro, somewhat grudgingly, clapped as well. Fred couldn’t sing, but he could dance.

            “Well, as… lovely as that was,” Gogo snorted at the words, “no, Fred, I do not believe in magic. And don’t you start singing again!” Hiro added on as Fred seemed to ready himself for another performance. The man in question seemed to deflate at the words, but Honey Lemon tacked on more encouraging words.

            “Hiro, do you want to do a reading then? Maybe we can see if it fits you!”

            “No, thanks,” Hiro responded, crossing his arms. The deck lay untouched on the table from before Fred’s singing, and he intended it to remain so now.

            “Honey Lemon, Fred, its fine if you think magic is real, exists and is a factor in life. But the rest of us don’t,” Wasabi offered. Fred perked up at that and turned to Gogo.

            “Gogo, my lady, wan—”

            “No.”

            Fred pouted as Gogo shut him down before the question was finished. But it wouldn’t matter whether he got through with it or not, she simply didn’t believe in magic. Once, as a young child like Hiro, she fell for all the old tricks. She tried to learn them as well, but never performed as well as her cousins did. She was never as fluid as they were, and eventually she just gave up.

            Hiro was the same, probably; he got tired of Tadashi’s old magic tricks or something. Honey Lemon and Fred are only children, so it makes sense that they would still be amused by such things.

            “Well, either way, do you want to at least try?” Honey Lemon pressed on, picking up the deck to Hiro. The teen only frowned in response, pushing the deck away.

            “No, really. I’m not a fan.”

            “Come on, Hiro! All you have to do is say a number, and Honey here will do the rest! The first card is you, bro,” Fred grinned, gesturing to the deck. Honey Lemon raised an eye brow at the words but fought down her urge to correct him. One card readings really weren’t her forte, not that she had one. Wasabi frowned at the two-person play and opened his mouth to interject when Hiro sighed.

            “You know what? Sure. Six, Honey. Six, one for each person on our team including Baymax. Actually, no,” Hiro paused, looking away as he thought. Chewing the inside of his mouth, he nearly bit his tongue as he continued, “seven. And Wasabi? You’re up, so come on.”

            Wasabi started at the sudden request, but Hiro was already shuffling through the door and gesturing to him to come with. A softly spoken “ow” wasn’t lost on the rest of the room, nor was the sound of inflating vinyl. The door slammed shut as the two went through.

            There was a pause as the three in the room stared at the closed door. Honey Lemon frowned nervously at both the command and Hiro’s sudden exit.

            “Well? Seven, right?” Gogo reminded, and the sound of shuffling filled the room again. Fred counted under his breath every time Honey Lemon paused, signaling one complete “shuffle”. The three stared as Honey Lemon completed seven shuffles, took a breath, and flipped over the top card.

            A man stood in the middle, smiling brightly at the room’s occupants. He seemed to be gesturing to the sky, where there stood a giant star. Ten points stuck out, each a variation of yellow. The sky behind the main star was littered with more. On the bottom of the card, Gogo read “The Star”. No wonder they took up the majority of the card.

            Unlike before, Honey Lemon made no move to her book. She simply stared at the card, gaze unmoving. Gogo realized belatedly that the card was upside down, but she saw it as right side up from her view. Did that mean anything to Honey Lemon? Stars are good signs, right?

            “The star…” Fred and Gogo watched Honey Lemon carefully as she moved back, taking hold of her book with shaky hands. Page by page, she skimmed the text. One, two, and then fifteen more. Finally, she stopped, thumbing the paper anxiously.

            “The star right side up means fresh hope and healing of old wounds. It’s a new start. But the star, upside down means obstacles to happiness. It’s a lack of trust of oneself, or self-doubt. It can also be taken as unwilling to change,” Honey Lemon paused, looking Gogo and Fred in the eye.

            “Hiro’s seventh member is his obstacle to happiness. Or rather, the lack of his seventh member.

            “It’s Tadashi.”

 

            “What exactly do you need screaming turnips for?”

            Momo Matsuda laughed at Tadashi’s dumbfounded expression as he gestured to the soundproof bags containing the vegetables. He didn’t look happy to see the faces stuck in peril, mouths wide to reveal the multiple layers inside. In fact, the view would be quite terrifying if she wasn’t used to it. Unfortunately for the screaming turnips, she was.

            “Screaming turnips can be used in old fashioned brews and such. They were especially popular in my youth. Now? Not so much, but this old lady can still find them! Not to mention,” Mrs. Matsuda grinned at the arrangement, “they don’t taste too bad either.” As if hearing her statement, several turnips opened their mouths bigger. Tadashi winced at the side and averted his eyes. This felt like nightmare fuel.

            Well, shopping with Mrs. Matsuda in general felt like nightmare fuel. The last two times she dragged Tadashi out with her, he became well acquainted with a dragon and pixie vendor only to find that they were selling their unfertilized eggs to make extra money, and then he learned that a quiet, kind unicorn was actually recently released from jail after going on a killing spree and murdering a whole band of kitsune. Which really, Tadashi did not need to know.

            This time he was doing his best to avoid eye contact with a happy kappa singing to herself. She seemed nice enough, and probably would be a good friend, if it wasn’t for the giant shadow that crawled out of the pool of water on her head and was combing through her hair. The shadow would occasionally lick her head, and while it may look cute while a puppy does it, the scene was quite the opposite of cute. If anything, it seemed as though the kappa’s shadow was devouring her.

            “Done!” Mrs. Matsuda’s voice rang, and she grinned happily as she tossed a bag of screaming turnips from hand to hand. The turnips seemed to be unhappy, as the bag swung from side to side. Tadashi was really, really glad to see that the side of the bag on his side was fully lined. That didn’t stop a turnip from pushing against the fabric, revealing its inner mouth as it stretched the cloth, but Tadashi did his best to look away.

            “You know what I love best about the market, Tadashi? Haggling! Can’t get cheaper than if you push for it,” Mrs. Matsuda hummed as she tossed the bag into a growing pile in her cart. Although Tadashi had been okay and even encouraging at the beginning of the shopping trip as Mrs. Matsuda picked out jewelry, clothing and small trinkets, when they began moving into the… living section, it was a bit stranger.

            “I guess?” Tadashi responded, offering a weak grin and shrug. Now that he was here, all his past negative interactions came flooding back. Note to self: never, ever embrace fairies who have more than three colors in their color scheme. He’d made that mistake once, and that was enough.

            “Oh, hang on, Tadashi! I forgot to make a trip to the bank before we came, mind if I go?” Tadashi frowned, replaying their morning in his head. Usually Tadashi made sure to swing by the bank at the beginning of any trip near the market, but it seemed that it slipped his mind this time.

            “Sure, Mrs. Matsuda. Though, you really don’t need my permission,” Tadashi chuckled awkwardly, rubbing his shoulders. The two set off for the bank, weaving between a flood of customers and moving merchants. The magic world seemed to have a preference for traditional set ups, because there was no large supermarket. Instead, stalls filled the streets featuring individual crafts and works. When Tadashi voiced the question, Mrs. Matsuda gave a smirk.

            “Tadashi, how many witches do you think have time to build up a giant corporation? How many witches do you think live that long? You make do with what you have, because if you don’t, someone else will. Fight for yourself first.”

            That… made sense, though the morbid phrasing of it was unneeded. Tadashi only nodded in reply, choosing silence over more talk about death. Mrs. Matsuda seemed at times to be fascinated with the topic. At first, Tadashi had assumed she was just a crazy, senile lady who just happened to have magic like him. It wasn’t until a few weeks in that he realized that everything Mrs. Matsuda said was true, and that she really had been, in her youth, a dangerous person.

            It was really quite a change. From a crazed, famed witch with no mercy to the eccentric, scandalously dressed elder, Mrs. Matsuda seemed to always have a trick up her sleeve. She insisted it was part of being a witch, but Tadashi was certain that she was just having fun.

            Mrs. Matsuda disappeared behind tight curtains, pulling her cart along into the bank. Tadashi chose to stay outside, lingering with the flow of people. Mrs. Matsuda hadn’t been secretive about her bank, but it seemed that no one else used it because Tadashi could never recall another soul walking in or out while he waited for Mrs. Matsuda. Luckily for him, there was always a flood of creatures buying, selling or trading goods or gossip on Saturdays, which were the only days Mrs. Matsuda would not go to the Lucky Cat Café for lunch but instead to buy groceries. Tadashi almost missed his old Saturdays with Hiro, but he didn’t have much time to reminiscence when Sharlee appeared in the crowd.

            “Tadashi? Is that you?” Did he change so much in so little time? Sharlee was staring at him as though he was a screaming turnip. Swallowing a laugh at her shocked expression, he began to speak.

            “Yeah, Sharlee. What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or um, whatever it is you think is weird.” The one continuous difficulty of transitioning from a life of science to magic was that Tadashi was never sure how he should phrase things. There seemed to be an entire new lingo used by different species, and he had to try to learn all of them. It was his job to protect and lead them.

            “Tadashi! Not the time!” Sharlee hissed; tail swishing furiously as she darted her eyes from side to side. Tadashi raised an eyebrow at the behavior—what was wrong now? But before he could ask, the curtain behind him swished open to reveal Mrs. Matsuda.

            “Tadashi? I’m done with—oh. Are you talking with your friend? I’m sorry to interrupt,” Mrs. Matsuda offered a smile to Tadashi and Sharlee. Tadashi grinned back, turning to Sharlee to continue only to note that the normally copper colored imp seemed pink, or pale. Her tail died in its movements, now lying uselessly against the ground, ornaments clattering as they hit the concrete.

            “Tadashi. Tadashi. Tadashi.” Sharlee repeated, dumbstruck. Worry arose in Tadashi as she continued to speak, mouth flopping uselessly. But she wasn’t looking at him, but at Mrs. Matsuda.

            “Oh, wait. We’ve met before, haven’t we?” Mrs. Matsuda spoke. Her smile seemed to widen as she extended a hand, “I saw you a few days past. I was with my lovely friend Ronald, though I don’t know if you remember him. Oh! Were you by any chance, transfixed with him?” Mrs. Matsuda’s smile turned sly at the suggestion. Tadashi balked at the thought of Sharlee liking that old man romantically, but she was older than she appeared. She could like older men.

            “I… I…” Sharlee seemed more disgusted with the though than Tadashi, which was more unsettling than he thought it would be. Sharlee had a sharp tongue and even sharper wits; it was unusual for her to be tongue-tied over anything, especially over a light jab about romance. She continued mouthing at Mrs. Matsuda, until she jerked back as though pushed. Sparing a last glance at the elder woman, she turned to Tadashi.

            “I’ll… see you another time, Tadashi. Good day.” With that, she turned tail and left. Tadashi watched her go with confusion and slight worry over the noise her actions were making, with her ornaments and jewelry and all, but the other customers made it easy for her to move past and get drowned in the crowd.

            “Uh, do you know her?” Tadashi tried, causing a low chuckle from Mrs. Matsuda. The former witch gave a light shrug.

            “Just a hunch, but I think we’ve met,” she said. Tadashi gave her one more glance, looked at the crowd where Sharlee disappeared to, and turned back. Whatever was going on, it was beyond him.

            “Right! So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about yesterday?” Mrs. Matsuda suddenly said. Tadashi stared, startled at the random question. He racked his thoughts to recall yesterday’s events. He went out as normal with Mochi, while Mrs. Matsuda stayed home to handle “fan mail” as she called it. Mochi had left early yesterday and said that he would be gone until late today, and that Tadashi should go out. After that, Tadashi had gone home and spoke to Mrs. Matsuda over a cup of tea. They spoke about the Council’s increasing load of letters, the local city’s rising “gang” and gossip, and about his personal problem regarding Hiro and Baymax. Wait!

            “Baymax! Baymax can see me!” Tadashi yelped, swinging around to face Mrs. Matsuda head on. She gave a patient but confused smile at his statement.

            “Baymax? Your robot, right? What about it?”

            “Baymax can see me. He can see me even when I cloak myself. Normally, no one can see me if I’m in Mochi’s perimeter, right? But he can! He can see me, he can talk to me, and he can even scan me with no problems! I think, anyway. But he can do all that, and I don’t understand why!” The words came out in a rush, tucked away from the beginning of Tadashi’s sneaking suspicion and shock about Baymax to this flood. Mrs. Matsuda took a moment to take in the information, and evaluated her choices.

            “It’s possible, but normally you shouldn’t be detectable, especially to such extreme measures. But Tadashi, this… Baymax, as you call it, was your robot? That you built, I presume, by hand with time and effort and care put in?”

            “Of course! Baymax was my most important project—he got me into SFIT with a scholarship!” Tadashi blurted out, almost hurt that Mrs. Matsuda would imply that he didn’t put his full effort into a project. Baymax was so important to Tadashi. He had once been a speck of dust as a thought, but now he was a full medical database in a marshmallow colored vinyl cover.

            “And if you could say so, why would you say Baymax could do all those things it did?” There was a sparkle in Mrs. Matsuda’s eyes as she spoke, almost as though she was amused by Tadashi’s questions. He felt frustrated at the sight.

            “I don’t know! I thought about that already, Mrs. Matsuda. Maybe someone cast a spell on him, or maybe there is some sort of magical bubble in his system that hasn’t been stopped or still in creation? Maybe he is the bubble! I don’t know!”

            “Tadashi, have you ever considered that you’re the reason why Baymax can do all those things?” Tadashi opened his mouth to argue, but closed it when he saw the look on her face. He really hadn’t thought of that before; he was mostly mulling over any past “enemies” who could have used magic to trick or trap him. But for all his musing, there were on viable candidates. He was the only active, on command witch in San Fransokyo.

            “But, how? Why?” Mrs. Matsuda laughed at Tadashi’s lost expression. The boy, or man, was still young and in training, even if he had been gifted the name of Head Witch early on. He didn’t seem very patient regarding this topic though, so she quickly quieted her laughter to speak.

            “Tadashi, witches have magical output. The more work you put into something, the more magic leaks from you. It doesn’t have to be a bad thing, but sometimes you might not have controlled it and did something you weren’t supposed to do. Sometimes, that’s how magic hiccups happen.” Tadashi wrinkled his nose at the thought of creating mistakes that one would have to clean up, and then making more mistakes during the cleanup. It sounded, and probably was, counterproductive.

            “You worked on Baymax so long that it probably got infected with your output. You didn’t even notice! I don’t even know if you can track output yet; I certainly didn’t learn it until I was becoming an old hag. But it’s a new technique that I should really get to teaching you.” Mrs. Matsuda gave a mischievous smirk as she began moving into the crowd. Startled at the sudden break in explanation, Tadashi lagged as he followed along. In moments, the two disappeared into the crowd.

            “You see, Tadashi, magic works in mysterious ways.”

 

            “I hate you. Completely, and utterly, hate you.”

            Naomi chuckled sheepishly at the words. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she tried the teleportation spell—normally, one was supposed to think of where they wanted to go, how they could travel there and the occupants of the trip. She had failed step one when she wasn’t sure where she was going.

            “It’s… not that bad?” She offered instead. Shao shot her a glare at her words. The snow witch was grumbling unhappily as she searched a map of the city given in the “tourist pack” by the train station. She had been annoyed when the many attendants tried to give it to her despite her denies; now that she was actually lost, no thanks to Naomi, it was very helpful.

            The two were… somewhere in San Fransokyo. The city was wide and vast, filled with people of all backgrounds. They were surrounded with more than the technology the city was famed for. There was culture, opportunities and magic that hung in the air. Just standing was enough to fill Shao with nostalgia. Though she was lost, Shao felt at home.

            Naomi on the other hand was completely lost in body and in spirit. Nothing in the city felt familiar to the sea serpent, even if she once caused terror in the area. If anything, the city caused her to be on edge. There was nothing of comfort to be offered. Her enthusiasm at the train station had all but disappeared.

            “I could just figure out where we are now if you’d just let me,” Naomi pouted, swinging her chain of charms lazily. She had layered it over her right wrist for easy accessibility, but before she could teleport the two again, Shao had snatched her wand away.

            “And let us get even more lost? No thanks,” Shao snorted, eyes drifting across the map. They were most likely near the Golden Gate park, which put them in the Shinjuku district. If she remembered correctly, Minato was the place to go.

            “Alright. We should take the… five trolley? I think it’s only three blocks down from here, if we’re walking Southwest. And then, the next thirteen stops?” Shao frowned as she scanned the map. A bus schedule was conveniently printed onto the back of the map, along with the train numbers and routes, but even with all the information it was confusing. If anything, the excess of information make her even more puzzled.

            “Southwest?” Naomi perked up. Wand or not, she was certain that any beginner could cast a direction spell in their sleep. But in her case…

            “Go, Poochi!”

            A small mechanical dog, blue and purple in color, ran out from her carry-on luggage. It was barely a foot tall, and hardly so long. Looking like nothing more than a metal and oddly-colored toy puppy, it sped forward, barking mechanical noises. Shao gaped as it ran past, purple spotted tail wagging all the while.

            “Naomi! What are you doing?” She grinned unabashedly at Shao’s remark. Toying with her makeshift bracelet, Naomi unwound one strand to reveal three purple beads in a row, with a bone shaped charm hanging from it. It looked like child’s play jewelry at a glance, but Shao knew better. She could see what others could not— small blue threads being stretched from the charm to the animal. In a crowded area like this with many unaffected persons, they could easily cause a bubble.

            “Relax! Let’s just follow Poochi!”

            With that, Naomi took off. Shao stood behind her, jaw hanging, as the laughing witch passed. Clutching the map with tense fingers, she stiffly took a first step.

            “Naomi… I really, really hate you!”

            All she got in response was laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who voted in the polls! I'm sure you're curious about the results.  
> There were nineteen total votes.
> 
>  
> 
> 1) BH6 witches: There was a clear winner in this poll, with a battle between two characters behind them. With the final vote, one character trumped the other with twice the number of votes. Since there are two characters that have a reasonable number of votes (more than 1/3 of voters voted for them), there are two winners.  
> 2) BH6 OCs: There are numerous original characters in this story, some for plot purposes and some just to world build (surely Hiro meets more students than just the four in the film, right?). Two characters received no votes, and two (or three) characters dominated. Several people did vote to leave them be, so those with fewer votes will be getting the same screen time I had originally planned, while the winners will have larger roles to play.  
> 3) Updates! This is a big one. Most people voted that they didn't care, but up until the final vote, it was pretty half and half with short, frequent vs. long and infrequent. Since it was so close, I've decided to have two types of updates: long updates meaning 3/4k+ words which happen after two weeks, and under 3k for once a week. It will remain on Saturdays, and art posts will only happen on long updates (in case anyone is curious, long+infrequent won by one vote).  
> 4) Plot twists, suggestions, characters, etc: I wrote this in Witchcraft Works, but to the person who wanted to see genderbent!Tadashi and Hiro as a couple, it's not going to happen. There might be ship teases or hints, but no resolved couples. To the anon about Ronald's backstory, tags will be appropriately added to it. I'm foreshadowing as best as I can for the conflict, but if anyone gets too graphic/gory/dark, please send in a comment and I'll rectify it with proper tags or cautions. Also, there were some timeline mistakes which have been edited.
> 
> So that's the poll wrap up! The next update is done writing wise, but I've still got art to do for it. There will be at least 10 drawings in there, so keep your heads up (since it's so long art wise, it will be an update after two weeks).


	15. Behind the Scenes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 15: Behind the Scenes  
> One by one, the players fall into place. (aka the crazy art chapter)

“Congratulations, we made it onto a trolley only to get even more lost.”

            “Wow. Ruuudeeee. At least I helped locate the trolley.”

            “Your dog exploded. Four kids started crying. Including you!”

            “Poochi was my best friend! And he will be again, when I rebuild him. And hey, I am not a kid! Maybe. Mostly. I don’t think so, anyway. How long do sea serpents even live?”

            A groan emerged from Shao’s mouth at Naomi’s words. The trolley rumbled as it moved along steel lines, turning slowly over sharp bends. The two had managed to locate and get on the trolley in time, but it hadn’t been easy. First, they had to chase down Naomi’s dog which went too far past the stop. Then, after getting that mechanical mutt, Naomi insisted to return the dog properly to her bag. Which failed, so the two spent another good twenty or so minutes chasing down the dog again, only to find that somehow into the chase the dog’s leg snapped. Then the dog exploded.

            And what do kids do when a cute puppy, barely a foot tall, suddenly explodes?

            Yeah, they start to cry.

            And what happens when kids start crying?

            Angry mamas and papas take charge.

            Naomi, for some reason beyond Shao at the moment, decided that Poochi’s explosion was sin worthy enough for her to start crying too. It made no sense to Shao seeing as Naomi could have just recalled her robot dog long ago, or simply cancelled her spell. But, no, she refused. So the two (but really, it was all Shao) had to get stuck talking to traumatized children and upset parents about magical dog fairies who explode when they’re reborn, strangely like phoenixes.

            The only good thing to come from that fiasco was that Poochi actually exploded only a block away from the trolley stop, where said trolley was actually stopping. The two managed to make it on with minimal issues. The only problem now is that they weren’t certain which stop they got on, nor which stop they needed to get off at. In fact, the two had no idea where they needed to go other than just Minato, which was broad enough as is.

            “Okay, so if we get to Minato’s house, then what?” Naomi huffed, crossing her arms as she lay against a pole in the trolley. The car was squished, and kids were all too willing to kick their feet out onto seating area. Had they not done that, Naomi was certain that the car’s capacity would increase by at least one third.

            “First of all, Minato is a place, not a person. And second… well, I have no idea.” Shao didn’t need a reminder of how lost the two really were.

            “Wow, really? C’mon Shao! Can’t you locate him? It’s one dude who’s the only witch in San Fran—well, other than us, of course. Or heck, why don’t you just give me back my wand, and then I can do it?” Naomi grumbled, peeved at her lack of equipment. Shao had not only confiscated her wand when they arrived, but now she had her charms, charms kit and luggage. The only thing left on Naomi’s personal was her clothes, and there was no way Shao was going to make her take those off.

            “Well, it’s not that I can’t, but I can’t exactly cast a scouting spell right now,” Shao snapped back. Her wand was hooked onto her hip and already lighted—a silencing spell so that no passerby would overhear. Unlike Naomi, Shao had a history of simple spells executed by wand alone, no charms, items or potions to speak of. Thus, she couldn’t conjure up another spell without extinguishing the one she was already executing.

            “Then give me back my charms kit! I could get us a tracker spirit and do a silencing bubble at the same time, with ease and only a few minutes. We do need to find this guy,” Naomi hissed. Even with Shao by her side, the feeling of being totally unarmed sent a chill up her spine. It was common knowledge for witches to never be unarmed—never know when a hunter might show up.

            “No, you’ll only cause more trouble,” Shao rebutted, rolling her eyes at the suggestion, “let’s just ask around. Surely someone here knows about him. What do you say his name was again?”

            “Er… it’s in the bag,” Naomi grinned sheepishly. Shao gave an exaggerated sigh at the words. Of course Naomi wouldn’t even remember the name of the witch the two were supposed to evaluate. Really, were they here to test the candidate or her?

            Digging through the pink tote Naomi had brought, Shao raised an eyebrow at the assortment inside. Makeup… more makeup… fashion magazines, and hair styling products. Beneath bottles of nail polish and a very, very pink cellphone cover, she found a lazily stuffed tablet. Resisting a groan at the lavender and pink color scheme on the back, complete with rhinestones, she fished it out of the tote.

            “Really? We’re here on official business, not for a…” Sparing another look at the mess of colors in the bag, Shao chose her words carefully, “extended makeover slash sleepover.”

            “You’re no fun. And you should have expected this, digging through my music list and all. Team K is AKB’s best team, and you know it,” Naomi pouted. So what if she had been a little excited to spend time with her best friend? Shao was the only person Naomi knew who had no problems teasing the girl, but also played the responsible big sister role perfectly. Naomi could easily imagine Shao staying by her side forever.

            “Team B is best, and _you_ know it,” Shao responded automatically, quirking her lips at Naomi’s words. She flipped through the words on the tablet, unsure if she could just activate the spirit inside of the device. The other passengers on the trolley all seemed to be clicking and staring at their electronics, but there were no holograms from what she could see. A pity really, since San Fransokyo was home to Akihabara, the claimed “electric center of the world.”

            “Tadashi Hamada.”

            “Huh?” Naomi frowned. The name felt vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. It wasn’t another novice idol that Shao voted for in the general elections, was it? But no, Tadashi was a masculine name, not a feminine one.

            “Uh, San Fransokyo’s one and only Head Witch? The one that we’re looking for? Keep your head on Naomi, we’re here for a reason.” Shao frowned as she flicked through the information in the tablet. Apparently the candidate for Key Witch came from a magical background, but his parents went missing in the Hunting. Tough luck; his little brother and aunt haven’t even been recorded to have magic. He ‘died’ to turn to a full life of witch-y goodness.

            That meant several things, but only a few were important at the moment. First, Tadashi Hamada is either an idiot who puts too much importance on others than his own happiness, or an idiot who thought that he could lead a dual life like comic book heroes. Probably both, if Shao’s track record was any good. It also meant that he could be anywhere. Lone witches, especially ones who have relations to a Hunt, tend to either reside close to their old place of residence or far, far away.

            “Well, we better start looking now, right?” Naomi offered. Shao was looking awfully tense. What was so big or bad about this Hamada fellow?

            “We should find a hotel first.” Shao reminded Naomi gently. Her mind whirred as she thought of ways to reach the witch. The easiest method would be to scout out at night, but that meant getting caught up in bubbles. Then they could follow his string of magic output, but doing so might attract the other residents of the city. And if that happened, then they’d get stuck with being evaluated by suspicious others instead of evaluating one person.

            “Yeah, okay. Though personally, I think we should just bunk with this dude.”

            Shao snorted at Naomi’s words, the two sharing a smile over tablet. The plan decided, Shao swept her hand over the tip of her wand gently. The glow at the tip diminished, ending the silencing spell.

            “Let’s find him.”

 

            “What do you mean, you want to quit?”

            A man flinched at the yell from his boss. Andrew glared at his employee, mouthing around the cigarette at his mouth. It felt heavy against his tongue, but he didn’t want to spit it out in front of the man. It was bad manners—and he lost his cigarette tray after setting it on fire accidently.

            “I-I’m sorry sir. But newspaper scouting really isn’t my thing. Ever since I returned from the hotel on fire, and got berated on the phone with Marty, I’ve been feeling sick and dizzy. I don’t think I’m cut out for it—honestly!” James fidgeted with his shirt. He really had been feeling ill after that day. Just yesterday, his wife found him puking in the toilet at three in the morning. He had a wife! He had children! And a dog! He couldn’t stick around at a job that made him hurt any of the three.

            “You’ve been… You know what? Fine. Go! Leave! And take your horrid grammar nazi self with you!” Andrew snapped, slapping the table hard. The cigarette came loose form his mouth and bounced against his blazer, falling to the floor. The two men in the room stared as the cigarette remains burned the carpet. Rage bubbled up in Andrew—mostly at the cigar.

            “Leave! Leave! Go! Get out of here!”

            Yelping, James ran out of the office. Angry swearing filled the room, but he quickly shut the door before he heard any more of it. Talk about unprofessional, though he supposed he didn’t have much say after quitting a job in only two months.

            Luckily, he found a much better one. A nice girl who worked at the local flower boutique invited him to meet her employer. Her employer was intimidating, and certainly big, but despite his rough words and gestures, he allowed James to stay for a trial run. The nice worker was cute too, as a bonus. Heck, maybe luck isn’t even enough to describe the situation.

            He’d begin working there in three days. Though, his first job would be a pickup instead of just at the boutique. That meant that they trusted him already. Really, it was all so flattering!

            Achievement flushed James even as he began packing away his supplies from the office. To be picked up just like that was really a success. Dare he say it? Yes, James thought of himself as a catch. To be spotted just right then and there, his new employer was a lucky, lucky man.

            Yama, James decided, had a great eye.

 

            It was a great day to go shopping, if she said so herself. Well, she did, so it was a great day to go shopping! The sun was shining, but it wasn’t too warm. The clouds were forming pretty shapes in the sky, and there was no uncomfortable humidity to be seen until two days later. It was the most perfect day to go out.

            Especially on a date.

            “Rose, are you thinking weird romance stuff again?”

            Rose Lafortte laughed as her girlfriend came closer. The two girls embraced, stuck between shoppers as they moved. One of the best things in living in a fashionable place like San Fransokyo is the ability to buy anything, anytime anywhere.

            “I’m thinking about you,” she shot back with a grin. Cynthia burst into giggles at the statement, giving her girlfriend a raised eyebrow that was ruined by her wide smile. It was the most beautiful thing for Rose to witness.

            “Please, be serious,” even as she spoke, the two moved closer, arms over arms and hands over hands. Eyes met eyes as lips moved closer. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

            “I have you to do.” Rose smirked, stepping forward to take Cynthia’s lips in a gentle lock. As the two girls embraced, loud wolf whistles and cooing erupted in the passersby. Even in a large city like, no, perhaps because it was a large city like San Fransokyo, the vast majority of people adored and embraced #LoveWins and those who stick out from the norm. It was a nice change from Cynthia’s old home.

            “I love you,” Cynthia smiled, moving back from Rose only to lean in again. Lip against lip, rose scented perfume against white lilies and honey, the two breathed in each other. Though they felt and heard the bustle of the people around, the only thing that mattered was the two of them. Nothing could break the bubble they were in.

            “We’re not lost. We’re just… taking a detour, that’s all.”

            “A detour to where? No-idea-ville? Lost-beyond-comprehension town? Or, oh, I know, about-as-far-away-from-Hamada-as-possible city?”

            “Hey, I’m not the one who set a bus on fire.”

            “It wasn’t me! It was, I don’t know, someone else! But it wasn’t me!”

            Consider her corrected. Rose raised an eyebrow at the arguing couple walking towards her and Cynthia. Two women, both probably mid-twenties, that happened to be very attractive. The on the the right was a tad bit shorter, but she seemed to be the more mature of the two, thumbing through information on her tablet. The left girl huffed, but it was her eye-catching assemble of yellows, pinks and flowers that was the real star. Call her tacky, but Rose thought she had style.

            “Shall we help?” And that was why she loved Cynthia. Pecking her girlfriend (and wasn’t that a delight to say and think), Rose turned and began sauntering to the lost two.

            “We shall.” With a giggle, Cynthia followed.

            “Whatever, so did you find a place or what?” The taller one grumbled, crossing her arms or at least attempting too. Her arms were noticeably full—a tote was tucked between her right arm and chest, a heavy handbag in the same arm, and another tote taped sloppily to the top of a rolling luggage case. It was an amusing sight next to her controlled partner, who simply had a crossover strap satchel and a matching tote and luggage case of her own.

            “No, there is a startling lack of B&B in this city?” Confusion colored the right one’s voice, as she flicked through ads on her electronic. Rose perked up at the words; bed and breakfast stops didn’t really exist outside of seaside exhibits, and even then it was mostly in small towns. No, large cities like San Fransokyo housed fantastic hotels. Travelers, however lost they are, should know that much.

            “Um, excuse me?”

            “Ugh, I want to stay at the Ritz! Or something equally awesome! Why can’t this be New York, I’d live in the Tipton hotel…” Rose and Cynthia shared a look as the two girls ignored their attempt to intervene. Rose repeated the question, but no answer. Sighing, Cynthia leaned forward, extending a finger, and poked the shorter one’s back.

            “What is it!”

            Rose and Cynthia yelped as the woman spun around on her feet, eyes sparkling as she reached beneath her cardigan to grab hold of… something. It was hard to tell from the angle, but there was certainly something hard and long under there. Rose resisted the urge to burst into giggles at her thoughts when the taller one turned too.

            “Shao? Oh,” as if realizing there were more people for the first time, the taller one stared at them, “who’re you?”

            “The crystal gems,” Rose grinned, eying the girl named Shao. The hand was still grabbing something under her clothes, and her legs were positioned to run. She seemed a little more than unstable to be left unwatched.

            “Rose!” Cynthia scolded, giving the two tourists a quick smile, “she’s kidding, really. I’m Cynthia, and this is Rose.” Something may have been off in her tone, as the non-Shao girl’s eyebrows shot straight up. “Um, and who do you happen to be?” Awkward Cynthia, real awkward.

            “This is Shao,” the taller one repeated, poking at her still tense companion, “and my name is Naomi. It is very nice to meet you.” Cynthia found herself being astounded when the girl took a low bow. How… traditional?

            “It’s uh, nice to meet you too,” Cynthia gave a strained smile. Should she return the bow? Offer a handshake? Do these females realize that handshakes are the present, beaten only by high fives in greeting?

            “We overheard you pretty ladies were lost!” Rose blurted out, earning herself a light smack by Cynthia. Naomi spared an awkward nod at the exchange, and Shao seemed to finally relax from her stiff posture.

            “We appreciate the compliment, but I think we would appreciate it more if you could point us to the nearest, cleanest hotels with proper facilities?” Wow, they were fancy. Cynthia found herself gaping a little as Shao took out her wallet from her bag, pulling out several hundred dollar bills, “Budget really isn’t an issue.”

            “I can most definitely see that!” Rose chimed in, eyes sparkling since she spotted the wad, “Where do you two want to stay?”

            The two other girls exchanged a glance. One opened her mouth to speak, but the other quickly shook her head. Naomi pouted at the denial of whatever she was going to say, and shuffled through one of her totes until she removed a magazine. Cynthia blinked in surprise, or maybe confusion, when she recognized it as a fashion magazine from San Fransokyo. Those two couldn’t be using it as their directory… could they?

            “We’re not going to live in Harajuku, and especially not in Takeshita dori street. And no matter what you say, we still aren’t,” Shao suddenly said. Naomi huffed at that, quite cutely really. Flushing at her sudden thoughts, Cynthia eyed Rose from the corner of her eye to see if her girlfriend had caught wind. What she found was that Rose was non-so-subtly eying the two in a lewd manner.

            “Rose!” She hissed, elbowing her in the side. It broke her out of her stupor, but Rose continued staring, “Rose! Really, we’re in public.” Cynthia ended in a whisper, glancing from side to side to see if anyone else was picking up on her girlfriend’s badly disguised lust. To her surprise, few people were noticing the four women, if anything, those who noticed were grumbling about them taking up the sidewalk.

            “Oh! Oh! Girls, why don’t we move to the side and let people walk?” Cynthia felt her cheeks get even redder when the other three shot her blank stares. Realizing what she was doing, Rose burst into flustered giggles.

            “Whoops! Wow, this feels just like pre-college. Bad staring, hot girls, and all the street blocking you could stuff in two weeks’ time,” Naomi and Shao seemed confused at the banter but they followed suit, tugging their bags along with them as the four moved from the flow of traffic.

            “We’d prefer a hotel in Downtown Adachi, if you wouldn’t mind helping us look.” Shao stated, smiling pleasantly as she tucked away her tablet. Naomi, the evident “loser” of their debate, frowned as she folded up her magazine.

            “Adachi? Wow, what a coincidence!” Cynthia clapped her hands together at the revelation, “she lives in Adachi, right in the downtown area! She’s a florist, but she’s even prettier than the flowers!” Rose flushed at the sudden compliment, shooting her girlfriend a look.

            “Cynthia, please,” Rose rolled her eyes, but the red in her cheeks didn’t lessen, “we all know that you’re the prettiest. Am I right?” Naomi and Shao offered nothing but stares as Rose shot them bad winks.

            “You are both very pretty,” Naomi smiled, taking a half bow. If it was awkward the first time, it was almost unbearably so the second, tucked near the row of stores to avoid obstructing traffic. Cynthia gave another strained smile.

            “Thanks! So then, Adachi, huh? If you want to stay in the downtown area, I’d have to suggest… ooh, this is hard… very hard,” Rose mulled over her choices, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. Cynthia gave her girlfriend an exasperated look.

            “Rose, you did have a job to do today, right?”

            “Ack! Oh Cynthia, my goddess, my sweetheart, my everything! Thank you for also being my alarm clock!” Rose jumped in a comical manner, rolling up her sleeves to check the time only to remember that she lost her watch weeks ago. “Geez, I’ve really got to run! But ugh, I really wanted to help you girls!”

            “Rose, relax.” A gentle smile, Cynthia’s specialty at times like this, “I’ll help them. You run to your… meeting or whatever. Delivery! Right, right!”

            “Thanks, my Lilith,” Rose chirped back, nuzzling her girlfriend. The two giggled as they embraced once more, slightly embarrassed to kiss in front of new friends. Shooting the tourists one last smile, Rose kicked back.

            “I really, really got to run now! But I’ll be home by dinner, Smoochums!” With a laugh, Rose took off. Giving her girlfriend one last wave, Cynthia turned to the lost tourists.

            “Well then, shall I show you the way?”

 

            There is a difference between peace and quiet. One is the feeling of ease, of comfort and knowing that one is protected. It is the feeling of being sheltered against unknown forces.

            The other is a feeling of fake calm, often occupied by tension and lingering hunger. Something somewhere is watching. It is watching to destroy the perceived safety.

            Mochi frowns as he pads through the café, narrowly dodging Cassandra’s legs as she brought out muffins to one table. The place was beginning to fill as it always did on a planned poetry night. Youths and elders alike and in between found their way in. Had Mochi known any less, he could have taken it to be peaceful.

            But San Fransokyo is not.

            It is quiet. There is nothing to be heard in the voices of the people, nothing to fear in sight. It appears peaceful.

            It is not.

            Mochi feels the storm brewing even as he sees nothing.

 

            “Excuse me, Mr. Krei, but you have a phone call from an anonymous man.”

            Krei bit back a groan at the words. He could only think of one person who would contact him at a time like this anonymously. Sparing a pinched smile at his assistant, he warily took the phone in her outstretched arm and resisted throwing it at the nearest wall. That would have to wait until after he disappeared into his office.

            Hastily dusting invisible dust from his suit, he made quick strides to his office. The other employees avoided their antsy employer by a mile, eying him from the corner of their eyes. Not that they dared to look for long, lest they get caught.

            Finally the door to his office slammed shut. Sighing into the receiver, Krei mopped his face with a groan.

            “Here and alone.” The unadded “for once” was heard loud and clear. A chuckled rumbled through.

            “Glad to hear it.” Krei doubted that. “I’ve been thinking,” that was surprising, “And well, our deal really isn’t fair to you, is it?” That was even more surprising. And more worrying as well.

            “You’ve never been one to consider others, Yama,” distrust colored his tone, as it always did when dealing with the crime lord, “I have an odd feeling you’ll be benefitting more from whatever development you have planned than I.”

            “Ah,” Yama growled, “but isn’t that the way business men like us move?”

            “Don’t group me together with you,” He responded simply. As always, working with Yama fatigued the CEO.

            “Right, right of course. You and your so called official business are so much better than mine. Ironic, seeing as I recall _you_ being the one to contact _me_ for _my_ help.” Krei let out a frustrated groan as he ran his fingers through his hair. Talking with Yama was going to make him bald one day, really.

            “I don’t need to hear this. I just want my microbot, and you just want some money. That’s it.”

            “Unfortunately it’s not. My lovely girls have brought me some new information that I’m sure you’re just dying to hear.” Again, Krei regretted ever contacting Yama in the first place. But the Fujitas only worked with one boss at a time, and that boss currently happened to be Yama.

            “Lay it on me.” Might as well get it over with.

            “It will be incredibly difficult to get you those microbots. There are only a few left, since they’ve been largely destroyed in combat.” Destroyed? Krei frowned at the new information. Hadn’t there been some criminal mastermind hording them? “It will be very difficult to get them according to my girls. So they want immediate payment.” Ah.

            “You mean you want a deposit for nothing,” Krei shot back. “What happened to no payment this time?”

            “Unforseen charges.” Yama sounded too smug for someone whose best workers were supposedly facing a powerful enemy, “Us business men encounter these all the time. Such a pity when they do arrive though.”

            “How much?” Krei sighed. It was too late to pull out of the case now, so he might as well strap himself in.

            “Two million total. But I only ask for a mere 400 thousand to get us started. Deposit fees are really, awfully pricey, aren’t they?” 400K? For a microbot? Krei could probably buy the criminal with that amount of money!

            “Bit much, don’t you think?” Krei settled on, sighing as he massaged his temples. Talking with Yama was giving him a headache. “250K.”

            “300K.”

            “Deal,” Krei settled. It was still much more than he’d prefer to pay, especially when he thought there would be no immediate payment, but it wasn’t much for the billionaire. He just preferred not to spend as much as he earned.

            “Usual spot. You know the place.”

            With that the server disconnected. Krei sighed as the low humming noise of the telephone filled his office. It really wasn’t helping his headache at all.

            The fact that Yama forgot to clarify what currency the payment was in did.

            Smirking to himself, Krei prepared for a withdrawal of three hundred thousand Vietnamese dong.

 

            The city was no longer painted in white, but in variations of blues and silvers. An artist may have called it beautiful at one point, and her innocent fans may have as well. But as Sharlee stared at the city, it didn’t seem beautiful at all.

 

            “Baymax, scan for Yokai.”

            “Scan complete. Matching information has been found… there.”

            Hiro narrowed his eyes as Baymax pointed to Akuma Island. The area had been abandoned once a few months back, he remembered. The military had come to local schools to try to recruit members, and they had a short stint there. Well whatever the stint was, it was gone now only to be replaced by a microbot-stealing murderer. And Hiro is going to stop him.

            Tonight is the night.

 

            “I’m fine, really. No, really I am. I’m fine so stop worrying!”

            With a huff, Gogo threw her phone onto her bed. Ever since she moved from home, her family had grown unbearable. Constant calling, texting, emailing… whatever they could use. The care packages had been sweet at first, as had the other forms of communication. Two years in, she could deal with never talking to family again if it meant peace and quiet for a week.

            But they cared, and that was the most important thing. The thought pumped Gogo as she moved, stripping herself of her shirt. The latex bodysuit on her seat was the first on tonight’s ordeals.

            Her phone erupted into music again. Groaning as the sounds of Orange Caramel filled her room, Gogo kicked off her pants. She’d call them back later.

            First she’d have to kick Yokai’s butt.

 

            Honey Lemon sighed as she emerged from the shower. Her dorm was small but neat, courtesy of her parents. When she asked to move out of state to attend San Fransokyo, they had been appalled and worried over their one daughter. But time had passed, and now calls were coming in once or twice a week instead of morning and nightly checkups.

            She appreciated the peace, even more so when Gogo would complain about her own family. But Honey Lemon and Gogo are two separate people, and though she knew the silence was nice, she would have loved routine messages and care packages. Still, it was best not to be a bother to her parents.

            But it was a while since she called them, wasn’t it? A sudden checkup wouldn’t be too bad, especially if they knew what their baby girl was getting into. The thought of their faces… Honey Lemon stifled a giggle.

            Tonight is the night. She’d better get ready. But first…

            “Mama? Can I talk to you and papa?”

 

            Life as a billionaire son is both awesome and horrible. It was terribly cliché of a superhero to be rich in this day and age, so Fred had to think of a good backstory for his eventual hero comic. What? It doesn’t hurt to plan ahead.

            Besides, he’d be fine. Looking himself over in the mirror, Fred allowed himself a goofy chuckle. He could only imagine Gogo or Wasabi’s annoyance at being tucked into a skin-tight bodysuit. The former might not mind it as much, but the latter would most definitely be irritated or embarrassed, or heck, probably both!

            Laughing aloud this time, Fred began pulling on his worn clothes over his suit. He’d put on the battle suit last. Layer and layers piled on, just like a matryoshka doll.

            “My, these cabbages are awfully heavy. You’d be such a dear if you could help me carry them.”

            “Then hurry up and bring them over.”

            “Always the gentleman, aren’t you?”

            Mrs. Matsuda smiled at Ronald as the two began pulling the groceries into the kitchen. She had sent Tadashi to the study room (which might as well be renamed his) when she came in, if only to stop the poor boy from doing any more carrying.

            “Ooh, Ronald look! The sun is setting!” Reds, oranges and yellows flickered over the city as the dimming light caught on glass windows and solar panels. Purple flashed by every few blocks, barely visible, but a special touch. The smile on Mrs. Matsuda’s face was not plastic, nor was it forced. But something in the quirked lips read as negative. Ronald could even call it sad.

            “Let’s hope this lasts a little longer.”

 

            The girl was dead.

            Sakura sighed at the sight of her robes—bloody and ripped. The girl had put up a decent fight, but despite her struggling, it was Sakura who stood in the end, alive.

            But even so, having to kill such a raw personality was painful. It was too bad really. She could have been a good fighter.

            But it couldn’t be helped. She had too many wrong things. Forced romances, broken friendships were only the tip of the iceberg. Her smiles hid deceit, her social life hid darkness. In the day, she was Ginger, quirky and cute despite her souring reputation. But at night?

            Ginger took her name quite literally, becoming a pyromaniac who had no moral issue with burning men to death. She took on the name of “Avenger”, one who dated men who had wives or girlfriends and killing them for their “sins”. The fact that she was the poison to entice them to betray a loved one never seemed to occur to her. For Justice, she claimed.

            It was the very justice that she followed that ended in her death. She had maimed one male too many. Life was ironic like that.

            But it really was a pity. Sakura wouldn’t have minded carving out little petals into the girl’s skin had she just given up a little sooner and accepted her death. Really, they could have even been friends before a painful slaughter. But Ginger had panicked, had screamed and fought. And Sakura emerged from the battle with a ripped and bloody kimono.

            Heaving one last pity sigh, Sakura turned and left. The carnage of the battle tore up the ground, making it difficult to maneuver with her wheels. But she didn’t fight and blade due to a lack of skill.

            The bloody tracks left behind would be the only sign of the Fujitas.

 

            It was all so obvious.

            Eureka moments came often when one thought as much as Hamadas do, so this one was no surprise. But even so, Tadashi felt like doing a little victory dance for his thoughts.

            He couldn’t help Hiro directly. He couldn’t really do anything at all in his brother’s affairs. But that didn’t mean that someone else couldn’t. Or something else.

            Laughing at his conclusion, Tadashi grabbed the nearest book on the shelf labeled “Spirits and Demons: Controlling your friends and yourself.” He’d need all the resources he could read for this to work.

            He never tried entering a charmed partner of his before. But there was no time like the present.

            Resisting the urge to whoop, Tadashi opened the book and began to read.

 

            The sound of metal against metal was all he heard in the hideout. It was ironic that he would be preparing for revenge in the same place where the act of injustice was first performed, but he had to lay his past behind him. It was devastating when Abigail died, in front of his eyes. To learn that Tadashi had in the fire had been another blow.

            Not again. Never again.

            Krei, Callaghan knew, would get away with it easily. The man was never one to be trusted. He needed to take action for his faults. He needed to be punished.

            If the rest of the world couldn’t handle it, Callaghan himself will.

            Justice played out the best for those blind to morality.

 

            Night was falling.

            Cassandra Hamada whooped as she opened the doors to a crowd of regulars, newcomers and curious. Poetry night tended to be her favorite night of the week, as some were well aware.

            People flooded the café, all talking about the supposed program of the night. Rumors were spreading that a certain someone had prepared a poem in dedication of Tadashi Hamada. The thought of it was enough; to actually perform it was something else.

            Cassandra smiled as the people filled in, taking regular seats or new ones. The stage had been set in advance for the performances. She would take charge of the evening soon enough, usually after checking up on Hiro, but this time her younger nephew had taken off beforehand. Laughing as she greeted the incomers, she noted that Mochi was nowhere to be found. Probably hiding upstairs again—she’d better prepare to go up if he make a ruckus mid performance.

            The stage was set. The lights were on, and people were coming in to watch the show. The last few visitors filed in, and the doors closed.

            Applause filled the café as she walked onto the makeshift stage. Her opening would be the same as it always had, coined by Hiro after watching a Mr. Sparkles television show too many times.

            “Welcome to the show!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this updated properly '-'
> 
> ** Vietnamese dong were worth 33k to british pound according to http://www.telegraph.co.uk/finance/personalfinance/9672926/The-worlds-least-valuable-currencies.html?frame=2396164. Since currencies are always fluctuating, it is impossible to say the exact exchange rate.
> 
> Anyways, this is the crazy art chapter featuring art by three people- myself, my sister and my friend. That really cool Honey Lemon? Courtesy of my sister. My friend did the edit for Fred and Lucky Cat Cafe. I did the others (obviously I love SF since I took forever to draw that city properly, also magikarp for the win).  
> As a writing update- I am done with the movie arc in my writing, which means that in celebration the next chapters covering the movie arc will be updated weekly. Yes yes I wrote otherwise, but what kind of fanfiction writer would I be if I didn't change things up (constantly)?
> 
> Thanks to everyone who comments (aka mostly Mcsauces) and kudos (much more of you)!


	16. In The Spotlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 16: In the Spotlight
> 
> The Fujitas appear

            The plan was horrendously simply in hindsight.

            Go east or go west, and search for the Witch. It was so stupid that she was certain that it would only work in concept, which was the only reason why Naomi had protested. It seemed too simple at the start, and as she walked in San Fransokyo, she only now realized why.

            San Fransokyo was too… bright. Even in the night, or especially during the night, the city was aglow with busy workers, night clubs and bars, or parties. And if she walked fast enough, she might just end in Red Light District.

            The body of magic in the city was even more disastrous than the people. There was no one gathering area for the residents, no. They spread. Everywhere she turned she could see another. Ghosts of the past, citizens of the present, and perhaps murderers of the future. They were everywhere.

            Frowning as the rowdy yells of a nearby bar overrode her thoughts, she marched on.

 

 

            “I’m going out!”

            The statement goes unneeded, but Tadashi says it anyway. Mrs. Matsuda is kind enough to house him, feed him and care for said house when he’s gone. She even provides him with books! It’d be terribly rude for him not to warn her when he leaves the house.

            He should be telling Mochi too, actually. But the tom hadn’t come around the house, and Tadashi would need to leave now before Baymax disappeared from his radar. He could tell that the robot was already moving in flight as he waited, and if he wasn’t careful, then Baymax would be gone.

            And where Baymax went, Hiro would be too. Tadashi had programmed the robot to care for his brother as his primary patient.

            A laugh bubbled up in his throat. Why hadn’t he thought of this earlier?

            Calling forward his staff, Tadashi readied himself to leave. The city would have to wait tonight.

            Hiro is number one.

 

            Callaghan isn’t a murderer—not intentionally. No one was meant to die in that fire, much less a student like Tadashi. But life doesn’t work that way, and students disappear. People go missing, and Robert Callaghan isn’t optimistic (hopeless) enough to think that the majority of missing students are runaways. He knows better.

            Those declared missing are better off being declared dead.

            Abigail was declared missing. Tadashi is as well, though everyone is well aware that he should be declared dead. But humans are nothing if not stubborn and hopeful, and so their status remains unchanged.

            It’s a shame, because two years ago Robert Callaghan could have been found chasing after lost souls believing they were runaways rather than unfortunate mistakes. Because that’s all their deaths were. Mistakes.

            He would avenge them.

            The sound of metal against metal, microbots and portal pieces, is all that fills his ears. But somewhere, in the back of his mind, shakes. A natural warning of hair standing on the back of his neck.

            He turns and explores.

            The heroes (his students, once) are still searching. Hadn’t he scared them off? Hadn’t he done this best to keep them safe (Krei would take them and never let them go)?

            Humans were horribly stubborn, he knew.

            He’d have to scare them again tonight.

 

            “Are we working together?”

            “Yep!”

            The two girls are awfully perky in James’ opinion. The cheeky one smiled proudly, fanning herself with a painted traditional fan. It looked nothing like the ones often sold in San Fransokyo tourist traps. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun complete with kanzashi. The other one is a bit more subdued but still grinning widely as she taps her phone. Her hair is also done up traditionally, but it seems much more… messy. Stray hair falls over her very-revealed shoulders and bosom, and had James not been married, he would be gladly staring. As it is now, he is not-so-gladly-but-kind-of-happy staring.

            “Um, right! Well, I’m James. It’s nice to meet you both!” He extends a hand but neither approach to shake it. Chuckling awkwardly, he withdraws. Did he mess up already?

            “I’m Rose!” The one holding a fan chirps. She closes it to point dramatically at the girl staring onto her phone, “and that one’s Sakura!”

            “I’m not that one,” Sakura butts in, but she flashes James a smile, “sorry, we’re not big on touching. Our job is awfully dirty after all.”

            “Oh, really? I had no idea flower arrangement could get so messy.” The two girls share a giggle. His embarrassment has faded away to interest. Already he’s learned so much. Apparently flower deliveries are usually made at night so they are fresh the next day. And that arranging them is a traditional practice, hence why his coworkers are wearing (very revealing) costumes! But oh, it’s not a costume. It’s traditional wear. See? He’s learned so much.

            It’s nearing eleven though. Where’s the delivery?

 

            Tadashi is gone.

            It wouldn’t be so worrying if it was Hiro, but this is Tadashi. Any time the elder sibling would leave, he’d let everyone in hearing distance know. And to top it off…

            Mochi hissed at the book on the table. Had he known that this was in there, he’d of hid the book before the thought of moving in was even brought up. Of course Tadashi would find some way to get in trouble without knowing that it was trouble in the first place. The younger Hamada had a habit of seeking trouble; the older a habit of landing into it.

            Tail swishing, Mochi leapt from the table. He wouldn’t be able to find Tadashi if the youth was tracking what he thinks Tadashi is tracking. The fact that a change of clothes, his wand, his bag and his staff was gone was clue enough.

            Mochi might not be able to get there in time, but it was better to be late than never.

 

            San Fransokyo is so much bigger than Shao remembers.

            The city is so large, so encompassing. Everywhere she turns, there are lights and people and laughter. The warmth of the city warms her, and for a moment she can remember when she was young and innocent, dancing along with others to the tune. But times have changed, as has she. Shao is no longer the young city girl, but now a senior witch. She had forsaken her innocent life ever since she met Naomi.

            But that wasn’t quite right either. Naomi hadn’t forced her to do anything. It was her own stubborn desire that kept her by the demon’s side, refusing to give up. And she had been right. It was Naomi that caused Shao to turn from entry witch to senior. It was Naomi that made Shao so respected.

            And so feared.

            But the water witch would never have to know. Shao would ensure that. She had.

            That’s why she sticks so close to Naomi in affairs, but never fights with her. That’s why she watches her carefully, caring like a sister should, even if the two aren’t related. Naomi isn’t related to her by any means, but the desire to protect still stays.

            So it’s Shao who walks too close to the line. It’s Shao who stares down the warning signs and waltzes right in. It’s Shao who embraces the darkness of the city, hidden between the lights.

            With a sigh, the snow woman enters the famed red light district.

 

            It’s not working.

            No matter how many balls she makes. No matter how far she can throw them, or how many calculations come up in her head. When she’s out there, a feeling of courage passes through here; she sees the man, sees her friends coming her way and the disarray, and that feeling is crushed.

            Throwing chemicals mixed sloppily and on the cut together was a hazard from the start. Who was she kidding?

            Even so, it’s not the sweat soaking her suit that makes her stop. It’s not the plummeting feeling of fear. Even the sounds of distress from her friends aren’t what make her pause.

            It’s the microbots, clinging to her suit. And she’s determined to get them off.

 

            It feels so dark out, even with the bright moon and San Fransokyo’s night lights. The two girls seem to have no problem with the darkness, but James has never really been out this late. It’s nearly twelve, and he’s still out here.

            Sakura got a text from the delivery men. Apparently they had to change location, which is why James was walking alone behind the two roller blading girls. They had gone out ahead to scoop out the location, though he didn’t really understand why.

            The plaza finally came into view. As asked, there were three white vans, probably filled with flowers. Only one of the vans had an open door though. Sighing, James walked over to said van to help haul out flowers.

            He wasn’t expecting to meet face to face with a grinning man with rainbow dyed hair cut bowl style. Said man looked strangely familiar.

            That was his last thought before something plunged through his heart.

 

            The sky was so vast.

            Tadashi laughed to himself as he rode on; wind blowing his hair and nearly blowing off his hat repeatedly. He’d grabbed hold of it, but after having to fix it six times, he simply took it into his hand.

            Baymax had been emitting messages non-stop, even though he was now mostly stable in one location. Akuma Island was apparently where his friends and Hiro were at, assuming that they traveled together. But even if they weren’t there, at least his little brother would be.

            Worry suddenly tugged at Tadashi. It felt like something was wrong.

            It wasn’t unusual for the older brother to get worried about Hiro. His little brother was famed for bot-fighting, mischievous manners and generally as much trouble as he could fit into his five foot frame. Worry was a constant in Tadashi’s life.

            But even so, he pushed forward a little faster.

 

            They were talking about it.

            Loud shouts, hushed whispers. It didn’t matter how the word was spreading—it was.

            New appearances in town. Apparently some witches had arrived in, and left their presence all over the SHOU Line and a shopping plaza in Shinjuku. Many were upset, but moreso worried. The last time San Fransokyo had a sudden unannounced arrival of witches it was because.

            Sharlee shook the thought out of her head. This was no time to recount bad history. San Fransokyo had moved on from it. The Hunters had left, surely. There had been no sign of them for nearly fifteen years now.

            However…

            The fear that normally froze people only pushed Sharlee forward, pounding down a once travelled road to Tadashi’s home.

 

            “This is stupid.”

            Naomi was only grumbling for no reason, and she was attracting stares for doing so, but it couldn’t be helped. Without Shao to play with, she was alone when patrolling. And patrolling was b-o-r-i-n-g.

            “I hate this.”

            People are starting to stare now. She is walking dreadfully slow, but they should have the modesty to look away. Or at least pretend to.

            “I hate you.”

            That got attention. Some more shot glares at her, while others grew flustered and hastily looked away. Serves them right for staring.

            Naomi sighed again. When was this night going to be over? When was she going to find the witch boy?

            Wait. She was magic! Naomi is a witch! She could see what everyone else could not. Finally smiling at her small ray of hope, Naomi began tracking down glimmers of color in the form of threads.

            She’d find him, at least before Shao.

 

            He doesn’t understand. He can’t understand.

            How had all this gone so terribly, horribly wrong? It wasn’t supposed to be this way. They had followed a plan, or were supposed to. But when the plan went astray, they made a new plan. The combat had been mostly planned. He didn’t understand.

            This development was never supposed to happen. Professor Callaghan was never supposed to be here.

            This is why he would always watch over his supplies. This is why he would scold Gogo when she’d steal a wrench, or when Fred would plop onto the tables without care. This is why he’d regulate Honey Lemon’s supplies, because sometimes her adventurous side meant overusing chemicals meant to be shared. This is why he watched Tadashi when the day began, because sometimes he needed a nap that he’d deny.

            Plans meant order. Plans meant peace, and safety and the ability to calculate. Plans meant a low risk of something like this.

            Wasabi’s plan didn’t include Professor Callaghan.

 

            “Oops! Did I happen to kill that man? Oh no, oh no! I’m soooo sorry sir! So so super sorry!”

            “Can it Sparkles.”

            The man laughed boorishly at that. Glee caked his face—the part that wasn’t splattered with blood anyway. How disgusting. How the man managed to not only get a television show but star in it and made the show a best viewer was beyond her.

            “But it’s soo much fun to talk! That’s why I’m the star of the show, and not you! Oh! Oh! Oops, sorry pretty. But it’s just so fun.” He continued to babble, giggling in a childlike manner. The bloody knife he had used sat on the side, discarded.

            James was dead. Or dying. Sakura really didn’t care. The man was a sacrifice and nothing else. The benefit of working with Mr. Sparkles was that he would give anything for a bit of excitement. The problem with working with Mr. Sparkles was that said excitement usually came from destruction for no reason.

            Sakura wasn’t clean of death herself, but she took cases that had reason; cases that were built on logic and motives beyond “fun”. She didn’t kill for entertainment; she killed for those who were wronged for said entertainment. Unfortunately, that couldn’t be said for everyone.

            “That’s a pity. James was so nice,” Rose pouted. The blood from his wound had pooled out around the car tires, and she had to take two steps back to avoid getting blood on her skates. If she were to get bloody tracks, then it would be blood from her kill.

            “James? What a sucky name! Oh my oh me! Not quite a show, am I right?” Mr. Sparkles burst into more boisterous laughter. Sakura groaned, rolling her eyes as she opened the doors to the other cars. As expected, four people were inside. All four were tied up with rope and tape, struggling to get loose but not actually escaping. With the exception of one, all were women.

            One death for four lives. Not a bad exchange.

 

            Nothing.

            Sighing, not groaning mind you, Shao leaned against the wall. The streets of the Red Light District were crowded with tourists, curious to San Fransokyo’s famed illegal center. She had warned the young ones she could stop of the danger, but most had gone ahead even with the knowledge. She wished that they realized that the district was known for more than just sex—drugs, kidnapping and murder were commonplace here. And with the Yakuza laying near…

            Perhaps it was that thought that caused her to move. Or maybe it was just intuition. Either way, somehow, she found herself leaving the route. Something out there was calling to her.

 

            Something out there was calling to her.

            Momo Matsuda looked up from her cup of tea. But nothing was in her sights. There were no visitors, no cry for help, not even an update from Tadashi. It’s a quiet night.

            Which is worrying.

            But there’s no need to worry. Ronald’s waiting outside, after all.

            Still, she can’t help but stick near the door and wait.

 

            “Hiro! Wait!”

            It was too late. Hiro had gone out of his mind, ordering Baymax to attack Callaghan. They had charged forward together to keep the robot down, but at full strength and no restrictions, Baymax was too powerful. Despite their force, he continued striking.

            But still

            But still

            They needed to do something.

            Honey Lemon could think of nothing else as she grabbed the green chip.

 

            The strings are all messed up.

            Naomi frowned as she walked, following the path of the strings. They had been relatively clear at first, but as she neared the place of origin, they clumped. It was then that she realized that there was not one witch in San Fransokyo, but three not counting her and Shao. That didn’t make sense. Hadn’t there been no witches after the Hunting? Why were there three here, two unofficially?

            And most importantly, why was this witch’s trail mixed in with the others?

            Naomi was too busy staring upward as she walked that the shouted “Stop!” didn’t register in her mind. By then, she was colliding into the being.

 

            Tadashi was falling.

            Not quite falling. Plummeting would be more accurate. He was plummeting out of the sky.

            Something had happened.

 

            She knew that face.

            She had only met it earlier today. But she couldn’t forget it. It was the face of someone who had set off all her warning bells, even if Cynthia was unaware of the exchange. It was the face of someone who intimidated her one second and appeased her next.

            The face of someone she wants to kill.

            “Stop!”

            The words come tumbling out of her mouth before she’s even aware of it. Her car comes screeching to a stop mid awkward U-turn. She’s out of the car in seconds, and the trouble she’s going to get in for it is worth it to see that shocked expression. Something in her tells her to leave before it gets messy, but the greater part of her wants to track blood.

            “Rose?”

            “Shao.”

            Her grin is anything but savory right now, and Rose knows it. It’s too hungry. It must be overpowering, because Shao winces.

            “Rose, is that really you? What are you doing out here? And what are you wearing?” The last question comes out scandalized. Rose bursts into giggles at it.

            “Of course it is! And I’m wearing clothes, miss prissy pants. What do you think I’m doing here at the famed Red Light District in these clothes?” As expected, Shao’s face turns red. The taste of it is probably delicious. Rose finds herself wetting her lips, but the subconscious action only brings the demand to the forefront of her brain.

            “Oh! I’m sorry, that’s I—wait. Aren’t you together with that other girl, Cynthia?” The accusation is almost silly, with how much it sounds like she cares.

            “Of course we are! Cynthia is the greatest, isn’t she?” And again, Shao recoils. Rose really must tone down her grin, mustn’t she? “She’s so fantastic. An amazing cook, an amazing worker… and an amazing kisser! I love love love her!”

            “Then, why are you here?”

            “Because I love so many people! But most people don’t accept my love, so I have to satisfy myself in another way, you know?” Irritation seems to cross Shao’s face. It’s far too entertaining.

            “Does Rose know?” Suspicion drops onto her lips, hot and juicy. She sweeps it with her tongue, a familiar feeling before battle from a long time ago.

            “Does it matter? We are separate people, you know,” uh oh. Shao doesn’t seem too happy to hear that. Oopsies!

            “Sorry Shao. I like you, I really do. And I like your friend Naomi too! But I’m just… so hungry. You understand, don’t you?” Rose’s body feels so warm. So hot. She could live forever in this state, but it only lasts so long. She better enjoy it while it lasts.

            “I haven’t tasted a witch in a long time.”

 

            “Who’re you?”

            The question unintentionally choruses as witch and imp are stuck in a stare down. Sharlee narrows her eyes at the stranger. She’s not a normal person that much is obvious. Sharlee can see two of her—one blue toned woman with too sharp fangs and a normal teen girl whose looks resemble a pop fashion model. An illusion, she’s dimly aware.

            “None of your business!” The girl snaps, brushing off dirt as she steadies herself. She doesn’t extend a hand to Sharlee. Huffing at her attitude, the imp gets up as well.

            “Well, where are you going?” It wouldn’t hurt to be suspicious. She’s one of the two incoming witches, but Sharlee didn’t hear the one of the witches would be a Mizuchi. She’d have to report this back.

            “None of your business! Who’re you?” The girl repeats. Sharlee rolls her eyes when she continues to ask for her information. Why should she give it if the girl refused? Her thoughts must have been obvious on her face, because said girl blushes.

            “I-I never mind! I’m going!” Sharlee’s ready to let her go, but she’s staring at the sky again. It’s not hard to tell what she’s looking at, because it’s what Sharlee was staring at too. But the girl seems to be seeing something she’s not, because she’s moving as if there are more than two directions. Nevertheless, Sharlee steps forward to point the way.

            “This way.” The girl looks as though she’s going to say something again, so Sharlee cuts her off.

            “I’m Sharlee. I’m going to visit the Head Witch of this city, and I think that’s what you’re going to do. And if you don’t listen to me, you’re going to find a very nasty surprise there.”

            That does shut the girl up. At least for a few minutes.

            “I-I’m Naomi.”

            “Nice to meet you.”

            It’s curt and simple, but it’s enough.

 

            “What’re you doing?”

            Rose perks up immediately at the voice. She gives Sakura a merry wave, but that doesn’t distract the girl so much as hinder her. There’s another lady, frowning at the two. Normally Sakura would leave Rose along to do her thing, but this obviously isn’t a normal circumstance.

            “Who’re you?”

            The woman frowns, but politeness wins out and she answers.

            “My name is Shao. Yours?”

            “Sakura.”

            Rose pouts at that, whining about the lack of proper suspense. Sakura could care less. They had, no, they have a job to do. It’s not her problem if Rose refuses to do it.

            “We need to go.” Her partner doesn’t budge, pouting at her as she swings her arms from side to side. The behavior is childish and irritating, and Sakura and probably Shao don’t have time for it. The longer they leave those people in there, the bigger the chance is that they’ll escape.

            “But I need to talk to my friend!” Rose whines. Friend is less or more prey in this case, one of the drawbacks of working with Rose. The girl is a dangerous fighter, unwilling to let go until she gets her way. It’s more or less a sign of her craze.

            Sakura opens her mouth to object, but there’s really no point by this time. Rose doesn’t push for much, satisfied by her happy-go-lucky daily life with her “super cute” girl toy, but when she does, she’s less than willing to let her prey go. There’s only one thing to do at a time like this.

            Groaning, Sakura pulls her arm back and swings.

 

            “Here!”

            He doesn’t understand. Or rather, they don’t seem to understand. He was right in his actions—Callaghan tried to escape with killing them, and with killing Tadashi. Callaghan had left Tadashi to die, and called it his mistake.

            Callaghan was the true enemy.

            So why are they doing this? Why are they stopping him (and Baymax)? Why won’t they just let him avenge Tadashi?

            Don’t they care?

            “Baymax? Baymax?”

            “This isn’t what we agreed to, Hiro!”

            They’re so noisy. All of them. The green chip (Tadashi’s chip) should have been discarded. They should have just let him be (leave me alone). They should just.

            “Back off.”

            Then he’s gone.

 

            It’s been so long since he fell like this. Plummeting out of the sky with no grace, yelling as he clutches desperately to nothing. But he can’t move, he can’t float. Are his legs really kicking? Are his arms really grabbing?

            He’s not quite certain.

            Then he’s grabbing a hold of something, and the feeling of nothing is gone. But it’s a tad too late.

            Screaming about nothing, Tadashi Hamada crashes midway to his little brother, into a not quite deserted alleyway of the Red Light District.

 

            He could forget, but he won’t.

            That time had been horrible. They were tearing through his companions, and for what? Supposed peace? Witchcraft is not evil, nor is it illogical. Magic is real, and runs through everyone’s veins in one way or another.

            How is it that a brain-dead patient can still hear is, can still think? How is it that when a person emerges from a coma, they can retain information and the same personality as before? Why is it that humans, who have so little natural capabilities, dominate so powerfully?

            There’s more than one side to every story. He had always preached that, much to the amusement of his friends. They had mocked him, but accepted him as well.

            They were dead now.

            As is he.

            But he can’t forget. He promised that he never would. He made another promise that he wouldn’t forget.

            So he sits with broken limbs and jaw, and not quite right eyes, waiting. Something in him preaches to wait, to listen, because there are always two sides or more to a story. Something in him urges him to recall his humanity.

            But most of him remembers the pain. Most of him recalls the hatred, bursting through his veins. Most of him remembers that when he bled out, he replaced the blood with promise.

            He lies there in wait.

 

            “I’ll eat you.”

            She won’t. She can’t. Shao’s sure of it.

            Wand raised and arm bleeding, it’s two against one. It doesn’t matter.

            Shao lets her mind drift to a time long ago. A chilling time, where she couldn’t move, think or breathe. Where her cries and screams were drowned out into the snow, struggling helplessly against the cold feeling, yet wanting more of it to escape the extinguishing warmth. She hadn’t experienced that feeling of helplessness since.

            She won’t ever again.

 

            “Stop.”

            Naomi shoots her an incredulous look, but it doesn’t matter. Sharlee rolls her eyes, pointing to the house. There’s no point hiding when the street is covered like cobwebs, but there’s only one (or two) spiders waiting for their meal. The two inch out of the shadows, expecting nobody. But there is one man sitting on the porch.

            Sharlee tenses immediately. She doesn’t need to see the truth to know who the man is. But Naomi might not. Withdrawing her gaze, Sharlee fixes it onto her companion. But what’s on the witch’s face is not fear, nor disgust. No, there is nothing but distrusting curiosity. Naomi takes one step, then another. Then she’s on the edge of the street, standing parallel to the house and perpendicular to the figure. Sharlee’s expecting a question, or a vicious hiss to emerge from her mouth. But even so, she’s not prepared for the exact statement.

            “How are you not dead?”

 

            “Tadashi is here.”

            The video flickers to life. Hiro goes from teary, exhausted and unbelievably angry to sympathetic, caring and resigned in moments, staring at his brother’s laughing, happy, alive form on the screen. Baymax stares down at Hiro’s tired form. Its main patient is physically exhausted, and it appears that hugs are not enough to boost morale.

            Baymax could not frown, nor could it understand human emotion outside of displayed hormones. But despite its programming, Baymax could aid Hiro in recovering from his believed loss of his brother. Baymax believed it could do it.

            And wasn’t that a novel concept, believing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** kanzashi are hair ornaments used in traditional Japanese hairstyles. Often made of metal, some old designs were changed to be utilized as weapons. Those “hair chopsticks” often suggested in DIY tutorials are included in this category. Do not stick wooden food chopsticks in your hair.  
> \- Rose wears an ogi kanzashi in the front and two tamas (those hair chopsticks) in the back, which is a more modern design.  
> \- Sakura has a kanoko dome but her hair is messily pulled up, so about a third of her hair is out. This hair is braided with tsumami kanzashi (or paper flowers). 
> 
> Yay our first death!
> 
> Oh wait, not yay. It's still Saturday where I live so shush. Plane delays made this update late, not me, I swear. ;0;
> 
> Next chapters are all conflict, so enjoy it. ;3


	17. Halftime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 17: Halftime
> 
> Despite popular belief, no one is invincible. Not even witches.

            “How are you not dead?”

            Sharlee gaped at the mouth of which the question came out of. Naomi was staring, blank with no hints of humor or resentment, at the man on the porch. Just before the girl was slow, whiny and somewhat clumsy; now she was tall, poised and elegant, staring down onto another.

            The man in question didn’t answer. Slowly, he raised his head to look at them. Sharlee bit back a horrified gasp when one eye of his lulled, rolling around in the socket. From a distance, she could easily decipher the lines and their meanings. It was disgusting, but bearable. Up close, the silver threads seemed to ooze pride at their prize. Her stomach churned.

            “I asked you a question.” Naomi repeated. One hand went into her blouse, between her breasts. Naomi watched as she pulled out a thin, long wand and waved it warningly. Her other hand grasped a long chain wrapped around her wrist, and she raised it to the same level as her wand.

            More silence. Sharlee watched nervously, sneaking backwards from the scene. In the event that there was a battle between Naomi and the witch inside the house, she probably wouldn’t stand a chance. Better safe than sorry, she reasoned, taking another step back.

            “Answer me.” Cold, unfeeling Naomi was an unpleasant change. Is this what people meant when they said that the real thing differed from the screen? But the man stayed put, mouth unmoving, eyes watching.

            Then she was moving. One hand effortlessly fast, grasping the chain and whipping it from her wrist. The binding snapped, causing the beads to go flying in all directions. It was overly showy, and over dramatic. But then Naomi was waving her wand, eyes ablaze with an unknown passion, and Sharlee gaped.

            “You will answer me!” She commanded. Her wand glew bright, light overshadowing the artificial bulbs inside of buildings and homes. The light was a dazzling navy, with bubbles of greys and sax. The charms that had been scattered messily were now shining along, hanging limply in the air by an invisible force. There were twenty, maybe thirty, of them all in wait.

            No answer. This was dangerous, very much so. Sharlee took a hesitant step back, and seeing no danger in hiding, another. The man was still, seeming unaware of the witch’s movements. Was he insane, or simply too far gone from life to recognize the unfolding of events?

            “Fine,” another flick of the wand, and the light grew brighter. “I will lay rest to your spirit! Go, my spirits!” Naomi stepped forward then back, sashaying her hips. It appeared to be a dance of sorts. “Koryu! Kyuryu! Chiryu! Koryu! Kyuryu! Chiryu!” Naomi repeated the three words, waving her wand with an invisible beat as she stomped back and forth. Sharlee gaped at the spell—Tadashi had never used such a sequence before. This was something entirely unexpected.

            Then the charms burst. And flying out came three dragons.

            They weren’t blue anymore for one. For another, all three were different. One was a golden yellow, encased in miniature coin scales. It looked menacing, grinning toothily at the unmoving body. The one directly beside it was blessed with a long torso and four long legs, encased in thorns. That one looked just as menacing, but with an added intimidating aura. The last was the smallest and sleekest, a hornless dragon with no wings and resembling a serpent. In a plush form, Sharlee could imagine it being a cute accessory. As a full sized summoned creature, it represented an eager snake, ready to swallow its prey.

            “Koryu. Kyuryu. Chiryu. And,” Naomi spun, eyes dancing with something otherworldly. Fear arose in Sharlee, stronger than before. What was going to happen next would be even scarier than a summoning of three dragons. “Mizuchi.”  
            But nothing happened, physically at least. Wind swept across the street maybe, but nothing more than that. Was it just a dramatic finish? Somehow, the thought was less comforting than Sharlee expected.

            “You can see it, can’t you old man? I strongly suggest you speak now. I really believe—” The sound of the front door jingling caught both Naomi and Sharlee’s attention. Was it the so-called other witch behind the door? Or would it be an ordinary civilian, confused to the ruckus? Or maybe, just maybe

            “Tadashi!” Sharlee breathed, eyes fixed on the door. The door banged once, and then it swung open. Behind it was an elderly lady with tired eyes, yawning lazily. A peculiar picture, next to a dead man and a powerful witch surrounded by dragons. Even more so, when Sharlee recognized the elder.

            “It’s you!” She blurted out, yelping when she realized that the words came out of her mouth, and quickly slapped her wings over her mouth. The elder looked up, puzzlement flashing across her face. Sharlee stilled, tail twitching as she resisted the urge to flee. Something was very wrong with the picture.

            “Why, Ronaldo, you didn’t tell me we were having guests.” She spoke, nodding once to Naomi and another time to Sharlee. She eeped and tried to evade the gaze. The elderly woman turned back to the man on the porch. “Really, are you sleeping again? Now, now, wake up now.”

            His eyes flew open. No, that’s not quite right. They were open before, but unfocused and glazed. But now, they were fixated on Naomi, unblinking. Though, it didn’t seem as though he could fully blink. How disturbing.

            “Good morning, Ronald! Though, I suppose it would be more appropriate to say good night… ah! No, don’t go to sleep again!” The woman pestered, lightly smacking his shoulders in an effort to keep the man awake. His head drawled, jaw dangling from his cheeks. He refocused, knees jerking from right to left as he rose from his position on the porch. After several attempts in which his legs failed to keep his weight up, he straightened.

            “Good morning, Momo.” Mechanical. That was all Sharlee could think of his voice. It was so bland, so emotionless. What had happened to his broad grin and light laughter the other day? Was it even his to begin with?

            As if reading her thoughts, a smile was suddenly fixed on his face. His jaws clinked back into place as he stared past Naomi, straight to Sharlee’s hiding form. Shivering from the force of the gaze, she cowered. Was escape even an option at this point?

            “How creepy.” Naomi stated. His gaze turned to her, mouth still set in the unnatural smile. The old witch next to him watched Naomi as well.

            “There is supposed to be one witch in San Fransokyo, not two. And yet, somehow, there’s two of you sitting together smiling like this is some joke,” the facts came out easily from her mouth. Again, Sharlee wondered, this version of Naomi was nothing like the one she had just met. “I want to speak to Tadashi Hamada.”

            “Oh!” The elder witch laughed, hands clapping. “Tadashi! Yes, yes he’s just such a talented young man isn’t he? So handsome too, I promise you young girls will be swarming him when he grows old! Well now, what’s the problem?”

            “I need to speak to Tadashi Hamada on behalf of the Council of Witches. Lead me to him right now, and maybe I’ll ignore your existence,” Naomi responded. Sharlee’s eyes widened. What did the Council want with Tadashi? They hadn’t stepped foot in the city for over a decade!

            “Hmm, unfortunately we can’t. You see,” The woman chuckled when Naomi bristled, “he’s out on an important errand. But you can stay here and wait for him to come back. Oh, and one more thing!” The woman’s smile turned dark, “remind the Council that limiters are standard issue for all witches.”

            “That’s not my problem.” Naomi shot back. “I can wait. But for now,” her eyes shifted, “explain to me about him.”

            The man in question shifted. He scratched lazily at his chest, eyes boring into Naomi. The dragons she had summoned waited, floating aimlessly with eyes trained onto the man. Every movement he did was tracked.

            “Oh, Ronaldo! He’s my good old friend, you know. I’m surprised you don’t know of him, he was quite well known only a few years ago!” She laughed again, but it held no mirth. Naomi didn’t laugh along. “Well, well. He’s a bit shy tonight, I hope you don’t mind. Well, he can tell you his tale, I’m certain!” Ronald jerked at that, eyes turning until he fixed his gaze on the dragons in the sky. Silence descended as his jaws clicked open and close, but no words came out. Frustrated, Naomi swung her wand.

            “I’m done playing games. Koryu! Kyaryu! Chiry—AaahhH!” Without warning, the man leapt forward, jumping onto Naomi. The witch screeched at the sudden attack, quickly bringing her wand downwards to stab the man. She jabbed him, hissing as he pulled on her uniform. Bringing her fist back, she punched.

            Normally, a punch from her would result in a yelp, or a scream. Maybe even a bloody or broken nose. But what came next was no blood.

            What came next was a cracking noise as the man’s head came flying off his neck.

            Sharlee screamed.  
            Naomi froze, wand clenched tightly as she tripped backwards.

            Ronald’s body was still, held in the air. His head landed onto the grass with a soft rustle.

            And the elderly witch, Momo, laughed.

            “Oh dear, oh my! I think you’ve lost your head!” She descended the steps, sauntering past the still witch with no jabs. Caringly, she cradled the head. Sharlee groaned when she felt her stomach’s contents rumble upwards. The elder walked back, humming, as she fixed the head back onto the neck.

            More threads. Her wands wove them out of nothing, stretching from inside his bones to the air, and then into his eye sockets. Wincing, Sharlee covered her eyes from the display. Silence filled the air, the only sound that could be heard was the occasional crack of bone as muscles met muscles and was fixed back into place. Then the elder pulled her hands back, and waxed them lightly over the man’s neck. When her hands came off, it appeared as though there had never been a separation to begin with.

            The man croaked, arms swinging as he moved forward. His jaw twitched madly, falling from his cheeks again as he turned to face Naomi. Squeaking, the witch moved backwards. Her earlier bravado was gone—replacing it was fear and horror, written over her face. It suddenly seemed darker as well.

            The dragons were gone. All three of them, disappeared. Instead, the charms fell to the ground, useless.

            Naomi was in shock. Sharlee was battling the urge to puke in the street alleys. An undead man was staring at them, invisible strings keeping him in place.

            The woman spoke.

            “Well, it’s been a wild night. I’m off to bed. Feel free to converse with Ronaldo however long you want so long as you don’t hurt him again. Here,” she walked forward, pushing the still man until they reached the porch. Almost lovingly, she lowered him onto the steps until his head hit the top most steps, and his legs hung limply over the bottom two. She neared the door, turning to bid them one last quote. “Don’t stay up too late!” And the door slammed shut.

            Sharlee puked. The feeling was both relieving and horrible, mostly the latter. She resisted the urge to topple over into her own throw up, holding onto the wall with shaky hands as she emptied the contents of her stomach. She had a feeling that food would not be an option tomorrow.

            Groaning as the taste of acid and half-digested food filled her mouth, Sharlee weakly wiped her mouth with the back of her hands. Some still stuck to her arm and clothes were she accidently puked on, and with a wave of her hand, the ring on her finger glew. In moments, the stains were gone. But the smell was not.

            Stomach now empty, Sharlee turned to the door to see whether or not the man was asleep again so she could finally muster up the energy to leave. But he was not. He was still in the same position as he had been left in, awkwardly peeled onto the stairs, but he was not asleep. She couldn’t see him fully, but somehow, she could feel it.

            What she could see however, was that Naomi was obstructing her view and speaking to the man. Her wand was still in her hand, but there was no brawling this time. Woozy from her throw up session, Sharlee took careful steps forward.

            Good. She wasn’t losing her balance just yet. Another step. Then another. Right by left, staring at the floor, Sharlee moved forward slowly. She didn’t think that she had enough energy to use another charm, and even if she did, she definitely didn’t have enough will to muster up the strength. But walking, yes. Walking she could do.

            “… It was for the best. I would greatly appreciate it if you would keep this between us. And the imp girl too, of course,” Sharlee squeaked at that. Naomi turned to her, expression tight. Then worry and relief took over.

            “Sharlee, I’m glad you’re okay,” her smile was too kind for someone who moments ago detached a man’s head from his neck. Or was it minutes ago? Time wasn’t moving right for Sharlee—it felt like the world was spinning faster than normal. “It’s really for the best? Surely you could have come up with another situation.” Something was tense in Naomi’s voice. Worry? Fear? Horror? Or maybe desperation?

            “Maybe. I’ve had a long time to rethink my decision.” Sharlee froze when she realized where the voice was coming from. Ronald, though his body wasn’t moving, moved his jaw with rapid fluidity. It was a far cry from his earlier display.

            “But I don’t regret it. I can stay here, waiting for the time to come. It is all that is right,” what was he seeing? His eyes were glossy again, but it seemed as though he could see perfectly clearly what was around him. Naomi frowned.

            “You will die like that. You are dead. Is that really okay?” What was Naomi talking about? Dead? But dying? It was impossible to die and then die again, that much was obvious wasn’t it? Sharlee shifted nervously. Seeing her movement, Naomi suddenly switched topics. “Nevermind. I appreciate you answering my questions. We will leave now,” she switched her gaze to Sharlee, “right?”

            “Uh-um, yes, of course!” Confusion wracked her small frame as she turned from the two. So much was happening at once, it was difficult to catch up. But Naomi obviously understood something that she didn’t.

            “Goodbye. Have a nice sleep, I suppose.” Naomi turned and left, making no noise as she walked. She wasn’t actually walking on the ground so much as floating right above it. Startled, Sharlee jumped after her, nearly tumbling forward in her fervor to leave.

            Just as they left the lawn, Ronald spoke again.

            “I am not afraid. There is nothing left for me to be afraid of.” His voice chilled her, but the statement even more so. Nothing left? What did that mean? Turning helplessly to Naomi, Sharlee tried to point to the man. But Naomi did not meet her gaze. Instead, she had her eyes set forward.

            “If you say so.” Then she continued moving away. Head spinning, Sharlee frantically switched her gaze from both conversers until finally; she gave up and ran after Naomi’s moving form. From the porch, Ronald did not move.

            The two moved in silence. Sharlee must have opened her mouth six or seven times, ready to question the events of the night. But every time she was ready to speak, bile rose in her mouth again, and it took all her strength to stop herself from stilling and puking again. There was nothing left in her stomach but acid, all she would rid her body of was blood. The thought only made her more queasy.

            On cue, her body lurched again. Grunting at the feeling, she cusped her stomach. Thinking about it wasn’t going to help, but another focus would. Hesitant, Sharlee turned to Naomi.

            Naomi was crying.

            It was hard to tell, but there were definitely tears streaking down her face. Two twin trails, wet and clear, moving in smooth ripples. It was like a slow moving river, it branches on her cheeks, a ravine. Sharlee stared, stomach forgotten, at the witch.

            “N-Naomi…?” She managed. Jerking, the witch turned to her. Naomi’s mouth flew open to explain, to distract, to do anything but let her companion focus on her face. But all that came from her mouth was a soft squeak, and a shaking gasp.

            “Naomi?” Sharlee repeated with more conviction. What had happened to the strong Naomi back there? The one with a cool dismissal of what had occurred? What had happened to the powerful Naomi who summoned dragons with just a few steps? What had happened to the Naomi who, although frightened and shocked, managed to get through her questioning?

            There were no traces of those Naomis here. There was only a witch, impossibly young given her years, crying silently. She stared at Sharlee, hands wiping frantically at her cheeks. But the water kept flowing, and her shoulders kept shaking.

            They had not yet reached the main city. They could wait a little while before splitting ways. Naomi had a mission to do, she knew that much, but it could wait a few minutes.

            Pushing her softly, Sharlee and Naomi moved from the deserted block until the lights of the boardwalk hit their faces. Finally in the clear, Sharlee ripped at a chain of gems strung between her horns. They were a fuss to put on every morning, but she was never more grateful for them now than she ever was. Mustering up will that she hadn’t had minutes before; Sharlee felt magic pulse through her skin.

            The sky rippled. And the two were gone.

 

            Groaning, Sakura pulls her arm back and swings.

            Her obi was already loose, but with the removal of the parasol, it barely hangs onto her body. Grumbling, she swung the weapon downwards, freeing up her hands to retie the long strip of fabric.

            Rose follows her lead easily. She swings both arms in an X-formation, cutting off the end quarter of her oversized sleeves. Hidden behind the pieces of tattered fabric are two thin metal fans, clutched tightly between ready hands.

            Shao seems already prepared for conflict. In her hands appears to be a thin wand, curved at the ends. It’s textured and reflects the light, but Sakura can’t see much more than that from her angle. Obi tied and partner ready, she picks up her parasol. It’s been a while since she fought together with Rose, hopefully they won’t mess up.

            “Yahoo! Shao!” Rose calls out, swinging her fans as she spins in place, “are you ready yet? You’re not going to fight us with that dinky thing, are you?”

            “What if I am?” Shao’s voice is tense, not that it’s hard to imagine why. She’s outclassed and outnumbered, not to mention under armed. Sakura pities her.

            “Well, if you say so!” Rose’s tone is far too light and cheery. She raises her arms, grinning down at Shao. “Then that means we can start now, right?” Before either of the two can respond, she swings her arms down, cracking the metal fans against the ground. From her motion emerges a whirlwind of fire.

            The flames hit the wall opposing her, but Shao is gone. There is no trace of the witch, nor any trace of her once being there. Sakura whirls around, opening her parasol and spinning it cautiously. Rose pauses, eyes tracking. But there is no sign of the woman in the alleyway.

            “Are you serious? Where did she go!” Rose complains, arms twitching with tension. The lighters strapped to her arms were surely heating up unbearably when not in use. Sakura frowns, slowing her parasol as she watches. There really was no trace left of her. Had she planned to escape from the beginning? Night had fallen, the lights were barely visible from here and the alleyway was chilled—a perfect time and place to escape unseen.

            “Ice and snow I dare control. Onto others, a stolen toll.” The words were hardly a whisper, but there were all the warning Sakura had before a flash of blue light came crashing down. She rolled out of the way, thanking gods for her skates, dodging the beam cleanly. Rose! Sakura jerked her head over to see her friend, but in the way was a new chunk of ice.

            “Magic…” Sakura breathed, eyes open. She had heard the rumors, but knowing did not equate to seeing and experiencing. The alley seemed to freeze, ice crawling along the walls in vines and flowers.

            “Pay your toll.” Shao came crashing down onto the field of ice, wand flashing as she moved with careless ease over the frozen ground. From her wand came another stream of blue light, almost thunder like in its noise, crashing along the wall and creating chunks of the frozen water. Sakura yelped, dodging the beam and opening her parasol to full size to cover her. The ice covered the right side, but even when the light stopped, the ice covered half of her parasol continued crawling onto the rest.

            “Pay. Your. Toll!” This was getting dangerous. Sakura gritted her teeth as she sped further along the side of the alley, hiding behind her deserted van. The people inside could break free for all she cares—what was important was her surviving beyond this night. Stupid Rose! Challenging a witch, wizard, magical being… whatever!

            Ice hit the van front, coating it. The vehicle shook with the force, and from inside the van the people screamed. Shut up! Sakura grumbled, smacking her parasol against the ground. The ice clung tightly despite her movement.

            “Take this!” A flash of heat came over the car. Rose. Worry overtook Sakura, and she inched from her hiding position. Sure enough, the other Fujita was carelessly skidding around on wheels, fans flying as she shot burst over burst of fire.

            “Ice and snow I dare—ugh!” Shao disappeared again when the flames came raining down over her. But this time, there was no flash of ice accompanying her leaving. Sakura stared as Rose moved, cackling as her skates caught on the ice, making wild trails on the frozen terrain.

            “Come on back here, Shao! We have to finish!” Rose shouted, fixing her fans together before spreading them to full size. Her weapons moved in sync, summoning a pool of fire. The attacks were random, direction optional, yet somehow she hit her goal. Screaming as fire encased her body, Shao appeared.

            It gets easy from there. Sakura kicks against the van, skating forward as she drags the metal parasol along the ground. It cracks the frozen cover on the umbrella as she moves, and then she’s in front of the burning witch. How stereotypical, burning witches. She closes the parasol and stabs, aiming for a single shot.

            And misses. Somewhat. Shao reacts fast for a burning woman, dodging to the left hastily and dissolving again. The fire disappears into nothing as she turns into more mist, but she can’t hide the blood pouring down her arm from Sakura. She’s no longer invisible frozen air, but red spattered messily along the wall. Sakura leans back and aims again.

            She misses completely this time, but Rose doesn’t. Her partner rams forward into the air, crashing into Shao’s weakened form fans forward. The metal weapons do their job of further piercing into the skin, turning the ice woman’s porcelain skin into a fountain of red. Though it’s more of a light pink, mixing into her skin as she gasps.

            “Mote!” Shao screams, and there’s something animalistic in her voice. Rose is too close this time to dodge the spell, and the wand comes crashing down over her head and from it a blast of snow. It’s nothing as impressive as the first enchantments which coated the street.

            “Here!” Rose shouts back, arms digging into the ice woman’s body as she swings her fans again. They fly open, readying for another flash of fire, but then the witch is gritting her teeth and butting her head into Rose’s arm.

            “Mote!” She repeats, and another flurry of snow emerges. It’s enough to finally blast Rose off her body, though she doesn’t have a moment to rest. As soon as one is off, Sakura zooms in, parasol skidding as she raises it high to crash down into the woman.

            She doesn’t quite get there, because ice is both slippery and disastrous in skates, made worse when her opponent has the ability to make more snow. Shao repeats the spell frantically, shooting burst after burst of snow until it coats the ground and Sakura groans when she crashes into the wall rather than Shao.

            Not quite a disaster, yet not quite a success. Getting a hit onto a witch was successful enough for one night, Sakura figures. Rose should be out of energy soon, too. But as soon as the thought crosses her mind, Rose staggers forward, fans crossed in front of her face. Oh, boy.

            “I’ll eat you.”

            There’s no mistaking the hunger in her voice. It’s entirely humane—a greed beyond animals. It is the human desire to be more than satisfied; to be bloated with unnatural goals and achievements. There is a reason humanity is watched by itself.

            “You won’t.” Shao spits back, wand at the ready again. Rose is at her front in an instant, fans slashing at her exposed form. But metal does nothing against the air but measly swishes through it. This time, Shao had hidden her blood well.

            It’s a waiting game. Sakura hauls herself to her feet, eyes but mostly ears ready. Since the beginning, the witch has announced every spell. Could it be impossible to perform magic voiceless? That was a major bummer, and a major weakness. Or perhaps it was only impossible for certain witches?

            “Ice and snow I control…” They both hear it this time, though it’s quieter than before. The light comes crashing down again, from one wall to the other, coating the trail in glaciers. But that’s not what’s important. Behind the light is a straight path, leading them straight to the invisible location of Shao.

            Sakura is first in the attack this time. She smacks the parasol against the ground, climbing up the wall with ease despite having wheeled shoes. By the time the light makes its way back to her position, she’s already launching herself into the air, parasol open to receive the hit. As expected, the force of the magic sends her backwards.

            But the screech behind her is a success. While Shao had turned to face her, she had left her back exposed. Rose had skated around, hauling herself over the van and propelling herself upwards to dig down at Shao. The fans came skidding down the witch’s arms, leaving red bloody tracks in their wake. Shao struggles, hands icy cold as she pries the girl off her skin.

            “Rose!” Sakura shouts, rounding the alley and dropping her parasol. Her partner lets go of her weapons, falling down into Sakura’s open arms. She’s cautious to avoid any spark of light signaling another spell, but Shao is huffing and hissing in the arm, bent over as she claws at the fans stuck in her arms.

            Rose may be weaponless, but Sakura isn’t yet. Dropping her partner near the van, she turns to get her parasol. Maybe they’ll end the night with a successful mission and an after all. Surely people would be willing to pay good money for a witch, assuming they could tame her. If not, selling her pieces would work too.

            Her finger swept over the parasol, heaving the hefty weight as she dashed across the icy field again. Her breaths came out in puffs of cold air now, a sign of the witch’s power. No matter, the victory was practically theirs now. Skates clacking, she prepared to scale the walls again.

            Which was exactly when someone came crashing out of the sky onto her.

            “OW!” She yelped, feeling something hard and thick jab at her stomach. Another hard but not so wide thing was also jabbing hard at the thighs. And finally, someone’s chin was very uncomfortably sticking against her forehead.

            “Getoff!” She screeched, hands flying as she batted the figure off her body. What the heck? Who drops out of the sky like that? Especially during such a crucial time! Sakura immediately turned her head upwards, searching the sky for the injured witch. But her figure was gone—probably dissolved into mist again. Great.

            “Sakura!” Rose yelled, skating over. She skirted past the mounds of ice on the ground, shakily pausing near the fallen body. Who…?

            It was a teen, or perhaps a young adult. A fit one, judging from the muscles on his arms, certainly not unhealthy and not one that looked to be someone who would come crashing out of the sky. But that wasn’t what was alarming about him.

            Across his fallen body lay a toppled over hat. One that looked awfully familiar.

            “Witch…” Sakura breathed, eyes wide. The male looked entirely different from the witch before. For one, he was unmoving. For another, there was a staff clutched in his hands. This one also looked distinctly human. And then, there was the fact that he was just now opening his eyes.

            “…Hiro?”

            Sakura jolted, eyes wide just as the witch scrambled upwards. He wasn’t moving correctly, arms pushing upwards while his legs lay useless. He was panting, too.

            “Hero? Who?” Rose repeated. Sakura jerked at that. One witch gone, another appearing… was Rose going to try to “eat” this one too?

            “Hiro! Hiro… Needs to… urgh,” he moaned, sitting upwards. He stared blankly at Sakura’s prone form, and then switched his gaze to Rose. The three stared in unison, until the boy yelped and startled upwards. His legs shook as he straightened, hands grasping at the long wand in his hands.

            “I’m sorry! I have to go! Ah,” he stumbled backwards, folding in on himself. Hastily, one arm came down to swipe the hat off the floor, “This is all practice for an up-coming performance! Please watch us in theaters!” Sakura could have laughed at the bad attempt of lying, if it wasn’t for Rose sharpening her fans besides her. So the hunt wasn’t over.

            “Hey, boy. What’s your name?” He started at that. Confusion flittered over his face as he set the staff horizontal and boarded it. It certainly looked awkward, especially when he only floated lightly over the ground rather than fly upwards. Sakura sighed to herself as she stood.

            “I—um, sorry. Performer secret.” A rehearsed line, that much was obvious. The wand rose a little higher as he spoke. Sakura cut her parasol against the wall; the sound of metal against concrete was a high-pitched whine.

            “Is that so?” Sakura wasted no time in brandishing her fans, making a show of spinning them. The witch rose higher, by this time looking downwards over them. He frowned, tensing as he removed one hand from the long wand and pulled out a smaller, thinner one from inside his jacket. It seemed the battle would not be one-sided.

            “Yes.” He was nearly at the rooftop now. Rose moved first, skating casually from Sakura to the opposing wall. He paused in his hovering, eyes watching both.

            “That’s too bad!” Sakura called, drawing his attention. Just as he turned to acknowledge her words, Rose jumped forward, swinging her fans. He jerked back, watching out of confusion. Rose was too far below to touch him. Her swinging was meaningless; surely that was what he was thinking.

            It was the perfect example of ignorance when Rose’s movement brought out not a light shift of air but a flame, propelling forward. His eyes widened and dived out of the way, but the alley wasn’t large. The second flames came closer.

            “!” He gasped as the flames licked the edges of his shoes. It was clear that he was moving away, but the movement was sloppy and slow. An easy target—perhaps witches really couldn’t do as much as the legends told? Or maybe magic was really nothing at all?

            Either way, it was good for Sakura and Rose. Hunching back, Sakura shot forward. Trailing the concrete wall with the head of the parasol, she leapt into the air, opening the parasol to full volume as she fell downwards onto the male. Her umbrella could handle the heat, but his body probably could not.

            But when she was falling downwards, she didn’t hit a body. No, just before she could reach him, he grasped the wand and pointed it at her. Words came from his mouth, and out popped out a yellow light.

            It wasn’t like the ice. There was no freezing feeling. But there was energy, thick and powerful, pushing against her and sending her crashing into the rooftop. Her parasol fell to the alley ground, deserted.

            “Sakura!” Rose shouted, startled at the crashing light. She grunted when the witch did the spell a second time, sending more arrows of light after her. Huffing, she kicked off the wall, launching herself like a pinball around the alleyway. But despite her quick speed, one of the arrows managed to follow her. Spiraling around the mounds of ice on the floor, it reached and smashed into the van. Rose gaped as the van fell over, sparkling muffled screeches from the people inside. That was a new one.

            Tadashi frowned, shifting his weight back on the staff. He wanted to go as soon as he could to get to Hiro, but he couldn’t just leave the scene like this. He should’ve brought Mochi with him, and then he could just reverse the effects without problem. But as it was, he would have to deal with it in a different manner.

            “Well… here goes nothing. Prison break?” Tadashi half asked and half wished, waiting for the feeling of energy rush through his body. But there was no rush, just an empty feeling reminding him that he really, really should have brought Mochi.

            “Focus, idiot.” A voice hissed near his ear. Jerking, Tadashi brought up the wand, spell ready on his tongue, when a fist socked his stomach. Rearing at the force, Tadashi felt his grip loosen from the staff. He readied the wand again, but a hand came to grasp it out of his. One of the girls was on him now, hands flying as she attempted to push him off. She was successful.

            With a cry, Tadashi was pushed off the staff.

            Eyes wide, Tadashi aimed at the floor. Spell after spell came into his mind, but nothing was right for the situation. Bubbles? Will pop. Jello? Not in this frozen condition, no. Flying? Never read about it, because everyone uses traditional brooms or modern staffs!

            To make matters worse, the other girl was skidding into view, fans out. She swung them around in a circle quickly, and took aim. Tadashi clenched his eyes shut. He really, really did not expect this to be how his night would finish. How he would finish.

            Then something swooped upwards, circling around his stomach and he was flying.

            “Is that how the Head Witch of San Fransokyo faces his defeat?” Tadashi jerked at the voice. It wasn’t the same as the girl before. No, there was nobody at all there. But he wasn’t in the way of fire anymore, nor was he even in the alley. He was suspended above, held by a cloud of icy coldness. Given his life after the fire, this shouldn’t be surprising. And yet, the talking cloud was still a shock.

            “How do you know who I am…?” He managed, hands clasping at his clothing. It was weird to be up in the sky without his staff to take a hold of, even more so when he had no idea if this cloud was help or more enemies.

            “I came to this city to speak to you on behalf of the Council,” his eyes widened. What did they want with him? “But it appears we’ve both been caught up in a little trouble. What say to helping each other get out of said trouble?” An ally. A shout alerted Tadashi to the situation below. The girl who he had blown away was armed again with her weapon, and the other one was scaling the wall with alarming speed. Even though he was in the air, he wasn’t disguised from their view. It was totally possible for the girl to shoot at him with flames.

            “I say that I’d appreciate all the help you can give me.” He flashed a tentative smile at… wherever the cloud’s face hopefully was. His thoughts must have been projected, because said cloud rumbled like laughter. Then he was falling out of the sky again.

            “Mote!”

            “Trinity arrow!”

            Their voices collided, twin flashes of light and ice roaring together as they crashed downward. Tadashi turned to the source of the other voice; was the cloud casting magic wandless? Except what he found wasn’t a cloud anymore, but a woman. A slender, black haired porcelain white woman in long robes, who would be objectively beautiful. But Tadashi didn’t take notice of her looks so much as her arms, and the gaping wounds in them both.

            There was no time to question that. What were first were the two armed girls on the ground, zigzagging forward with ease. One managed to reach the other witch, long parasol swinging; another managed to make it to the rooftop, fans slashing through the air as she approached Tadashi. He grunted as the flames spiraled upwards. This again, huh?

            He didn’t need to say the words to activate the spell. Clutching the chain on his neck, he felt for the same green leaf that he had used the day of his disappearance. The bubble came up around him, shielding the fire. With that, he fell, eyes stuck on the prize: the staff.

            Reacting to his thoughts, the fallen item began floating upwards again. Seeing this, the girl rushed forward, fans hidden away to grasp the stick. But Tadashi reached it first, twisting his body with the staff as a pole. One leg over, and then the second delivered as a kick. The girl grunted when his foot collided with her face, sending her back as he arose again.

            “Come back here boy!” She shouted, on her feet in seconds. Even for someone on wheels, she moved alarmingly fast. But not fast enough now that he was facing her one on one, and back in the air. For the first time since he crashed, he felt a rush of gleeful adrenaline.

            “Come get me!” He replied, floating even higher. Safely out of her grasp unless she decided to start scaling the wall again, he pointed his wand downwards. “Thunder and fire, listen to my desire!”

            Rose didn’t dive out of the way fast enough as the twin dragons of thunder and fire came down, setting the once frozen terrain onto wild fire. It was suffocating hot now, which was just as bad as the cold before. Glaring at the figure in the air, she readied herself to climb upwards again. But just as she neared the wall, Sakura came crashing past.

            “Sakura!” Rose shouted, skating to retrieve her fallen companion. Sakura groaned at the words, getting to her feet slowly. Just as she moved upwards, the wheels on her feet were swept out from under her. Down she went again, the wheels on her left skate popping off.

            Rose could leave her to go up the wall, but doing so was too risky, especially as parts of the street were on fire. The atmosphere was too hot to leave anyone behind, especially someone as important as Sakura. Sighing when she realized the only choice left, Rose hauled Sakura’s prone body upwards.

            Just as expected, when she looked upwards all signs of the witches were gone. That had been a total bust. If only the second one hadn’t appeared, maybe she could have won. Oh well.

            With those final thoughts, she brought Sakura back to her van, only to realize that there were two vans that both needed drivers. And only one of them was conscious.

            “Curse you witcheessss!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you thought this fic was going to be happy but it's not, clap your hands!
> 
> ** Koryu means 4-legged dragon, kyuryu is hornless dragon and chiryu is yellow dragon


	18. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 18: Intermission
> 
> There's a lull in battle, but it doesn't last for long.

            “She’s late.”

            Sharlee frowns, fixing the blankets for a fourth time. The pillows are tossed wildly, the blankets slipping off the bed. It’s a mess, to say the least. But it’s only a mess because she threw them off the bed right before fixing it again.

            “I’m sure she’s fine,” she responds. Her voice is toneless, but there’s not much more heart left in her that’s still beating. The night’s events exhausted her; she set out on telling Tadashi about the new visitors in town, not befriending said visitor and then getting thrown into the craze that was watching a magic match up. Weariness poured off her body, and yet she continued to fix the bed, eternally restless.

            Naomi didn’t respond to her words, staring upwards at the sky. The witch had stopped crying when they had hit one thirty a.m., settling for watching the clouds to try to spy her official witch partner. Though she was curious to meet her, for the most part Sharlee didn’t feel like coming in contact with any other witches for the night. In fact, the only reason she was really here was because of Mochi.

            The cat strayed from the two, perching himself calmly into a corner where he eyed a book lazily. But his gaze wandered too slowly to really be reading—though he didn’t say it, worry permeated him. Sharlee would have left Naomi alone when she was certain that the girl would be fine, but Mochi being just as moody as well threw a wrench in her plans. If she left them alone, who knows what will happen? And so she tucked the blankets in again, only to pull them out from the pillows and prepare to fix the bed for the fifth time.

            “…Shao?” It’s hardly a whisper, but it manages to get both Sharlee and Mochi straight and staring. Naomi’s kicked back her chair and standing, head nearly out the window as she searches the sky. The two watch her, tense, but then she flops back down on the chair. No words are needed.

            “…” Sharlee eyes Naomi when the girl curls up, moving her knees to the seat of the chair as she folds herself over. Mochi returned to his position in the corner, not even bothering to fake read his book. The room is silent again as they wait. Outside, the cleaning crew clutters by, voices of maids bustling through the hall. One knocks on the door, and Sharlee sighs.

            “Room service! We’ve come to clean your room!” The male outside calls. Naomi doesn’t do much more than twitch, burrowing her head between her knees. Mochi lays still, eyes closed. Sharlee stops in her fussing to think up an answer.

            “Don’t worry! We’ve got it!” She calls back, but it’s apparently unsatisfactory because the worker calls again.

            “It’s late! Or huh, early! Kids should have lights out by now!” There’s the sound of the cart moving again, squeaky wheels and all. Footsteps don’t follow.

            “We’re fine! And there’s no kids here,” the second statement is more of a mumble, but it elicts laughter from the person outside. Naomi jerks, startled at the sudden sound, but she can’t hide more than she already has. She does move her arms from her knees to her ears.

            “Alright, well sleep soon!” Finally, the footsteps walk away. Sharlee groans under her breath, returning to the bed. The wheels start up again, but they’re further down the hall and the worker is off to harass another room. She grabs the edge of the blanket, and pulls.

            Up, and down. Smooth out the creases of the blankets, and fold them into the mattress. The fluffy, large white pillows are set side by side, while the thin long ones decorated in beige embroidery go neatly on top. The second layer of blankets goes on top of all the bed, smoothly covering the pillows. But it’s not smooth enough, and Sharlee pulls them off again.

            The pattern repeats. Pull off. Layer first blankets. Normal pillows followed by decorative ones. The top blanket goes on. Pull off. Rinse and repeat. Over and over, Sharlee fixes the bed. The sound of fabric is the only thing in the room. By the tenth, twelfth, fourteenth time even, Naomi has moved back to the table, eyes searching the clouds for nothing. The pages flip in a corner, but far too quickly to be read. Pull off. Layer the first blanket. Fix the normal pillows, and then the decorative ones. Finish with a top blanket. Not good enough. Pull off.

            There’s a knock on the door. What, oh what, could it possibly be? Sharlee grits her teeth and answers the unasked question.

            “No, we don’t need room service.” Another knock, followed by another. It’s a frantic series of quick tapping and Sharlee groans. What in the world are these hotel operators thinking, teaching employees to bug guests like this?

            “No, we really don’t need room service.” More silence in response. Then she can hear garbled speech, though it sounds funneled and mechanic. Ugh, it’s not a drunk is it? Frowning, she releases the pillow in her hands and marches over to the door. Her hand touches the knob, but she doesn’t twist.

            Naomi is staring at her, eyes wide. Mochi from his corner peers, curiosity but mostly apprehension etched on his face. It’s unbelievable really, how tense they are. Nobody died. Nobody got hurt, not seriously anyway. And yet, here she is, hands still on the knob.

            The door opens.

            She swings back her fist and punches.

            She connects with flesh and a yelp.

            “Ow! Sharlee, what?”

            “Shao!”

            Three things happen at once. Naomi swings off the chair, rocking the legs of the seat back as she launches herself forward. Tadashi jumps back, arm clutching the one that Sharlee just punched, and knocks into the woman behind him. Mochi springs forward, charge in sight, but manages to get Sharlee’s knees rather than Tadashi’s.

            It all ends the same way: with four adults and a cat sprawled on the hall carpet which smells suspiciously cheesy, and a very amused looking cleaning lad towing a cart down the hall. Sharlee really doesn’t need snarky teenage fun facts, so she scrambles to her feet first. She might have kicked Mochi, but whatever.

            “No comment!” she shouts first at the male, and turns to the rest, “the rest of you, in.” Mochi responds with a grumpy hiss, but he gets to his feet first anyway. Tadashi’s shooting her a confused look as he hobbles in, and the two visiting witches are the last to remove them from the floor. Sharlee lumbers in last, shooting the startled cleaner a hasty look, and shuts the door.

            Now that she’s in and her heart is no longer moving one hundred miles a minute, she realizes that Tadashi and his friend “Shao” are injured. Tadashi is hunched over, shirt pulled up as Mochi paws his back. It’s colored, horribly so, in purple and green bruises. But that’s about as light as it gets when she turns to the other injured witch.

            “Who did this?” Naomi’s voice manages to balance frantic worry and helpless relief when she looks over Shao. The witch body wise seems fine, though Sharlee assumes that under her clothes she’s patterned similarly to Tadashi. No, the real worry is her arms.

            Crusted blood along her arms, both of them. The skin was mostly sealed up, except near the wrists, where the cut curved like a circle of blood. Sharlee gaped at the wound, Naomi shaking as she gingerly touched the arms, eyes wide.

            “… It’s not healing…” Naomi whispered, tracing her fingers. Tadashi was moving from Mochi, frowning as he searched his pockets. Nothing.

            “Do you happen to have a needle and thread?” Naomi jerks at that, shooting a glare at him.

            “What do you need that for? Well! And who do you think you are, waltzing into here, like you—” Shao raises one arm to silence Naomi, though it’s more the fact that she’s moving the bloody limbs at all that silences the room’s occupants. Mochi saunters over, eyes narrowed as he inspects the arms.

            “Naomi can make you some. Are you suggesting that I really need such treatment?” Naomi’s flustered, head turning from witch to witch.

            “Hold on! What are you talking about? And who is he?” It’s almost comedic, how well those lines would fit in a romcom. But there’s no humor found here, with bled out arms and bruised backs.

            “Stitches,” Mochi responds, abnormally calm as he watches the scenario play out, “and he in question would be the Head Witch of San Fransokyo.” Immediately Naomi moves, leaving the bed to search through her cabinets for her beads. In moments, she’s pulling out a chain of white pearls.

            Sharlee watches as Naomi moves, molding white pearls into thin thread. Her hands weave the string together like noodles, flipping them over and harshly slapping them until it forms a white needle thin line. The needle comes easier, three pearls roughly broken off and molded together. The tools are handed off to Tadashi without accusations this time.

            They all watch in silence as the Head Witch starts, hands moving with ease. Blood begins to bubble up again between the pinched skin, but Naomi’s complaints are foreseen by a shake of head. Mochi sets a towel down and Tadashi returns to work. The hand weaves in and out, string pulling separated flesh together again. It’s only when he reaches the wrists that they turn, not out of disgust but respect. Left arm finished, he moves to the right.

            The remaining thread and needle is handed back to Naomi, who changes them back without question. The chain of pearls is much shorter this time, understandable. Shao frowns, rubbing her arms lightly. The skin is lightly puckered, but it’s better than gapes. The bruises and smaller cuts will heal, they all know. There’s nothing left to say but the obvious.

            “Who?” Unsurprisingly, it’s Naomi who asks. Neither Shao nor Tadashi answer, provoking the witch to repeat. “Who? Who did it? Who hurt you? Shao!”

            She doesn’t answer. Her eyes slide close, and she lies down onto the bed. Frustrated, Naomi repeats.

            “Who! Shao! Answer!” It’s growing increasingly desperate. Sharlee knows when it’s time to leave, tip toeing away from the quiet injured and the desperate second. Mochi watches her go until she hits the doorway, then turns back to the three witches on the bed. Naomi has taken to yelling at Tadashi now.

            “Tell me! Who did you guys face? Who are they? Who? Tell me!” Mochi is intervening, angry hissing permeates the walls. Sharlee doesn’t listen to the words spoken as she pads away. She can talk to Tadashi tomorrow.

            She pulls at the chain of jewels on her head and feels herself shake. Behind her, there’s a gasp, but she doesn’t bother to turn around.

            The cleaner stares as a young girl, maybe ten years of age, shimmers and disappears.

 

            “Why don’t you trust me?”

            There are tears in her eyes as she asks, but Shao can’t work up the will to answer. She’s so tired from the night’s activities and Naomi doesn’t know. She can’t know that the very girls that she met that day turned out to be willing to kill. She can’t know that the Rose who complimented her, who seemed so joyous earlier today, could be the same Rose who stuck metal fans into her arms not once but twice, and dragged them down.

            Naomi can’t know, because then she won’t be Naomi anymore. She’ll be the demon she once was, forty years past. If she knows the feeling of betrayal again, she’ll be gone.

            Naomi is precious. Naomi is beautiful. Shao loves Naomi, loves her so much. She wants to drown in her, hugging her friend forever. But she can’t, because of things like this.

            Shao needs to protect Naomi. For Naomi, for Shao and for everyone else.

            So Shao closes her eyes and drowns out the feeling of tears on her back for the thought of tomorrow. Tomorrow they can meet in breakfast, she can apologize, and brush this issue aside. Tomorrow, they can rekindle and go meet Tadashi. Tomorrow, the mission will go back on track.

            So she tells herself, trying but failing to ignore Naomi’s desperate wail.

 

            Naomi’s crying is… loud. And terrifying, and enough to make Tadashi sway on his feet. But Shao had made it terribly clear that she didn’t feel like talking, and it’s not Tadashi’s right to disclose her secrets. So he tells Naomi that he can’t tell her despite her tears. He can’t offer comfort for her, nor closure, because the only person who can is trying to erase it from her mind. So he apologizes, over and over on repeat, but it doesn’t help at all.

            It gets worse when the world sways and he manages to cause a blackout.

            Mochi has kicked them out of the room in an instant, yelling at Shao that they’d meet tomorrow somewhere somehow, and hastily shut the door. Tadashi wasn’t really sure what was happening other than the fact that Mochi was bumping into him and urging him to get into the elevator. Then he was asking where Tadashi’s staff went, except Tadashi can’t remember anything other than wanting it, and it was there. Which was useful, he supposed.

            Then they lumbered on and moved, though Tadashi wasn’t really sure where he was going, just that he had to get somewhere and that he was moving to said somewhere. Mochi was talking, questioning probably, but he wasn’t certain. Did he answer back? Did he talk at all? It’s all very confusing.

            Then he landed outside the Lucky Cat Café and promptly fainted.

 


	19. Encore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 19: Encore
> 
> Tadashi sees the world through Baymax's eyes.  
> There's a lot of screaming involved.

            “That’s why Callaghan wants revenge on Krei—because Krei took his daughter, Abigail.”

            Who was talking? Was that Hiro?

            “Krei’s having an opening tomorrow.”

            Fred? Surely that was Fred right?

            Tadashi groaned as he moved, staring forward. He could see five figures in front of him. They were all fine, mostly, but some had some very strange hormonal responses going on. The center one especially, whose information seemed to match up perfectly with Hiro. What was he saying? Of course it did—it was Hiro. And that was Fred, and Honey Lemon, and right in front was Gogo and Wasabi, the worrywart, stuck to the left back.

            “We have to go.”

            “But are we enough to fight him? He totally got us today. What should we do?”

            “Woman up. We can do it. Right, Hiro?”

            “Of course we can. Baymax and me have got your back.” Why was Hiro looking at him? Could Hiro seem him? But Hiro isn’t supposed to see him, he can’t. He made sure of it. But wasn’t Hiro looking? What was Hiro looking at?

            “I will do my best.” That wasn’t him talking. That was Baymax. Yes, that was Baymax. Hiro was looking at Baymax. Right?

            He’s not sure. It’s all growing blurry again. He can’t quite tell.

            “Alright well, let’s work on it. C’mon Baymax, let’s go.”

            It’s not him toddling away this time, surrounded by old friends. But it sure feels like it. Then Baymax is turning. To what? Look at what?

            There’s something he can see. Something red, like heat. What is it? It’s a prone form, lying on the couch. Something is on top of it. Oh, but that’s Mochi right? Then who is that, beneath him?

            It’s Tadashi. It’s him.

            He screams.

 

            Tadashi jerks awake, screaming.

            Mochi is launched off her body as he folds over, knees locking up and head hitting the couch as he moves. He’s dimly aware of Mochi’s angry yowl but there’s something more important to think about. Something about Baymax. He could see him, right? Couldn’t he?

            Why couldn’t he remember?

            “Tadashi.” It’s Mochi. Right? “Please calm down, Tadashi. You are suffering under a panic attack.”

            He doesn’t understand. It sounds like Mochi. But it doesn’t. It sounds like Baymax, except that’s wrong because Baymax isn’t something separate. They are one and the same. If Tadashi is here, Baymax can’t be.

            Surely, surely this is another dream, right?

            Right, right. He just needs to go back to sleep.

            Tadashi just needs to sleep.

 

            Hiro is in trouble.

 

            “HIRO!”

            “Tadashi, calm down! Tadashi! Listen to me, Tadashi!”       

            “HIRO HIRO NO, NO I CAN’T WHAT ARE YOU DOING HIRO”

            “Tadashi, stop! Calm down, Tadashi! Damn it, slow it!”

            “He needs to go back to sleep. I told you earlier, Mochi, didn’t I? I have the equipment, just put him down.”

            Hiro needs help. Tadashi needs to protect him.

            Tadashi needs to.

            Tadashi just

            He

 

            I’m stuck. I can’t get out. I need to get out. I need to protect Hiro.

            I need to protect Hiro.

 

            Tadashi jerks upwards. The room is spinning, but he can see Mochi besides him. Mrs. Matsuda is on the other side working on something. He can’t quite see it from this angle, but he knows something. He knows that he can’t be here. He knows that he needs to go downtown, to Krei.

            He knows that something is happening, and he needs to be there.

            But he can’t get up. He’s just so, so tired.

            He needs to think from another angle. He needs to concentrate.

            He needs to sleep.

 

            Get rid of the microbots.

 

            He needed to get up.

            Tadashi groaned as he moved, switching from lying on his back to his side. But then he was crushing his arm, causing another round of moaning, so he flipped over again to his stomach. It would have probably been fine if it wasn’t for the fact that he left his arm there, so now he was crushing his other arm.

            Frustrated, Tadashi flipped back over to his back. But the drowsy feeling of sleep had left him, replaces with irritation and worry. He needed to get up, but he certainly didn’t feel like it. He just wanted to sleep.

            Settling back onto the pillow, Tadashi waited for his dreams to return. Maybe thinking about them would help.

            Dreams were fuzzy and not always clear, but the ones he recalled were delightfully so. Baymax was there, or rather he was impersonating Baymax. And his friends were there too! All suited up for battle, like in the movies he and Fred watched together. Well, they were all suited up except Fred; Fred was suited up like a monster, just like he always wanted to be. That was good.

            Baymax had been struggling. That was weird. Honey Lemon was trapped, and Gogo was too. Weren’t all his friends stuck? But then he said something, but it was just his words from someone else’s mouth. His friends got unstuck, wonderfully so. Wasabi especially did a quick job.

            Then he, as Baymax was flying past. Baymax… doesn’t know how to fly. So it’s probably just Tadashi flying past. He goes and grabs Hiro? Hiro is in some sort of superhero costume too, except it’s not just a Halloween costume but the real thing. That was dangerous. Hiro was saying something, wasn’t he? Yes, Hiro was saying something about microbots.

            What was it? Hiro wanted to do something with the microbots, but they weren’t his. They were someone else’s. But they didn’t belong to them. They belonged to Hiro. So he wanted to. He wanted to.

            Hiro wanted to destroy the microbots. And he needed help.

            His help.

            “Hiro!” Tadashi scrambled upwards, kicking off the blanket on his body and searching the room with his eyes. He was in the garage of the Lucky Cat Café. On the right was the computer, and on the left was the door to open the garage. It was carelessly left open, for who knows why. Wait, wasn’t it because they were in a rush to leave? But it wasn’t Tadashi in a rush. It was Baymax, rushed by Hiro. Right?

            Thinking about this was not pleasing to Tadashi’s stomach. In fact, Tadashi’s stomach was not pleased at all. In fact, one could even say it was the opposite of pleased, to such an extent that Tadashi desperately needed to go to the bathroom.

            “Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick.” Covering his mouth with one hand and cupping his stomach with the other, Tadashi stumbled to the nearest bucket. Aunt Cass really should have installed a bathroom in the basement; if only she could guarantee Hiro and Tadashi would leave said basement outside of bathroom breaks and dinner, then she probably would have.

            Once he was settled over the bucket however, the feeling in his stomach began to fade. Huh. So maybe he’d make it past his morning without puke after all.

            “You’re finally up.” Tadashi jumped at the noise, ready to defend himself with a… bucket. Okay, not his best weapon, but still. A bucket could be dangerous, especially full of bodily fluids.

            Except it was just Mochi. Oh. Realizing how ridiculous he probably seemed armed with a bucket against the family fat cat, he sheepishly lowered it.

            “I… sorry Mochi. Just jumpy. I just got up,” gee, for a cat Mochi was sure good at giving him smug looks, “and for some reason I’m really, really tense. And I had crazy dreams. And I just, wow, I’m so tired.” Was he rambling? He was. Flushing, Tadashi shut up.

            “That makes sense. You were doing a lot of things you weren’t supposed to be doing,” and wow, Mochi was really expressive for a cat, how did Tadashi never notice this before, “look at your wrist.”

            What was that? It fit snugly like a bracelet on his wrists, but the shape wasn’t quite right. Gold squares set together in a cube shape, way too thin to have been slid on. It was almost like it was molded right onto him.

            “An accessory?” It was obviously wrong judging from Mochi’s roll of eyes.

            “No, it’s your limiters. Several months past due, may I add. But here you are. Ta-da,” Mochi said. Tadashi raised an eyebrow at his cat’s irritated tone. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was Mochi who went under a series of pseudo-real nightmares, not him.

            Actually, “Mochi, I have something important to say first. In my dreams,” Tadashi paused. His dreams weren’t exactly coherent; there was no way to properly describe them. “My dreams, I… um, I wasn’t me,” oh great, Mochi was looking at him all funny again, “I mean, I was me but I wasn’t I was Baymax but I… wasn’t?”

            “In your dream,” Mochi repeated slowly, “you played Baymax, but also yourself. In short, you should see from Baymax. Is that right?”

            “Ah, yes! Exactly!” Mochi was a much better guesser than Tadashi remembered. With intuition like that, he could take the lottery.

            “Tadashi, why do you think that happened?” Was it just him, or was Mochi especially irritated today? Tadashi frowned, thinking back on his recent adventures. He could call his dreams side effects of being exposed to too much magic just yesterday concerning the fight and all, but it wasn’t the first time he’d feel not in his own body. In fact, every time he ended up arming himself with his staff, it would end with the dizzying feeling.

            “Is it a side effect?”

            “No!” Mochi snapped, groaning as he pawed his face. All that studying Tadashi did, and not a single one covered this topic? “Tadashi, it’s your magic. You’re spilling all over the place, and taking feedback from your magic. So it all comes crashing down at once because you aren’t controlling your output.”

            “But what about Baymax?” Tadashi protested.

            “It’s probably just because you left your magic all over that bot. The bot would be drowning in magic if it could.” Mochi retorted, sighing. If Tadashi was having such adverse effects, how long had he been sending out signals to people? Had he ever accidently messed around with someone else’s path? Knowing Tadashi probably not, but even so…

            “It doesn’t matter now. Your limiters do exactly that—limit. Output reduction, spell concentration, and convenient identification,” Mochi explained. Tadashi stared down at the bangle on his wrists. Those small crafted pieces of metal did that much?

            “Then, I’m fine right? I can go on as I was before, and no more weird visions?” Tadashi asked hopefully. If those really did such a good job, he’d have no more worries about incidents like last night. Falling out of the sky was something he’d really prefer to never do again. Happiness rose up in him.

            “Maybe, we don’t know how well they work with you since it’s just a standard limiter. But I don’t want you going out today anyway.” Tadashi felt his bubble of hope linger a bit at that. If he had these things, shouldn’t he put them to use right away? Better in practice than emergency, right?

            Really though, he shouldn’t voice that thought. Tadashi sighed as he rose, swinging to his feet. That sounded like a quote Hiro would say, and he would then run into danger without care. It was something that Tadashi would definitely prefer not to do. Speaking of, wasn’t Hiro here earlier in the garage? Actually no, in his dreams, Hiro was somewhere else wasn’t he. Hiro was…

            “Hiro! He’s in trouble!” Oops. Mochi probably jumped a foot in the air at that.

            “This again?” His cat groaned, eyes rolling, “Hiro should be fine. He just left before with your,” pausing at Tadashi’s glare, Mochi hastily rephrased, “or his, friends. If I felt that he was waltzing into danger, I would’ve stopped him. Of course,” Mochi returned the glare now, but it was exasperated rather than legitimate, “that didn’t stop a certain someone from crying about him all night long.”

            Tadashi would feel embarrassed normally, but worry overrode it. If Mochi was correct before, than his dreams was feedback from his output. Sure, it was much stronger than needed, but it was still a helpful sign. Pinching his chin, Tadashi tried to find a conclusion. Hiro was out with his friends. Mochi knew that Hiro wasn’t in danger. But then why would Baymax be sending him so many signals? He wasn’t right now, anyway. But in his dream, he was.

            Wait. “That’s it!” Mochi jolted again at that, “sorry Mochi. But I figured it out! I had a preemptive dream—a vision.” Tadashi clapped his hands together. “That means that Baymax and Hiro aren’t in danger right now! But that they… will… be…”

            “…” Tadashi turned to Mochi, smile set firmly in place. Whatever was going to come out of his mouth, Mochi would not like it, one bit.

            “… Mochi, I need to go out.” And there it is.

            “Tadashi, you can’t! You just got limiters last night, in the middle of the night, and we only put them on because you were getting so much feedback that your body couldn’t handle it! You won’t be able to handle a mission!” Mochi was right, really. Tadashi was still a bit woozy from the night’s activities, and he did wake up with the urge to puke. But his friends were out there, including his fourteen year old baby brother. He needed to help.

            “You can’t stop me, Mochi. I need to go.” Where was his wand? Tadashi turned from Mochi, scanning the room with anxious eyes. It wasn’t in here! Where did he put it? He couldn’t remember last night’s events after the battle. He went to a hotel, but everything from there was blurred.

            Mochi watched as Tadashi searched the room. Tadashi was his charge, the person he was bound to protect and guide. But so was Hiro, only in a non-contractual manner. It wouldn’t be right to put either above the other. He’d already confirmed that Hiro isn’t in danger, but even so. Even so.

            A feeling loomed over Mochi as he watched. There was no choice, it seemed.

            “Here.” Tadashi jolted, turning to Mochi. The tabby walked to the right of the garage door, rustling between old boxes and trinkets. From the pile, he pulled out a very familiar item.

            “My staff,” Tadashi breathed, rushing forward to grab it. But just as he moved in, Mochi kicked open the garage door, rolling the staff out. “What! Mochi!” Tadashi squawked, running his hands underneath the door to pull it open further.

            “Tadashi, wait,” Mochi murmured. He waited until Tadashi paused mid-pull, eying him. “I won’t be coming with you today,” Mochi raised a paw as Tadashi opened his mouth to object. He knew. “I will be staying here. But you need to go. So from here to where Hiro is, you can fly. You can cast, and you can chant. Do whatever you want. But promise me one thing first.” Mochi was unusually serious in his tone. Slightly shell-shocked at the tense words, Tadashi could only offer a feeble nod. What was Mochi getting at?

            “Tadashi, promise me that you’ll protect yourself.” Relief poured into the witch. Same old Mochi after all, despite his show of drama. Smiling besides himself, Tadashi nodded.

            “I promise.”


	20. Thinking with Portals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 20: Thinking with Portals
> 
> The credits are starting to roll.

   

 

            It’s difficult to fly when a mind is filled with worried thoughts and sensations. Most people get frantic over nothing at some point of their lives, but Tadashi worries constantly. It’s usually not this bad really, just a faint nagging at the back of his mind. This isn’t quite the same.

            This is closing eyes and seeing the world through someone else’s mind.

            “You’re a flying hazard, you know that?”

            Eyes fly back open, revisiting open blue skies turning grey from the sight of black bots swarming. Tadashi turns to glance at his temporary partner Naomi. She frowns, riding her own broom. Like his, it’s not really a plain plastic stick, but it is old styled. Bamboo fashioned wood with varying flowers at the end. Isn’t it difficult to fly with the petals sticking out like that?

            “No, it isn’t. And focus, you’re the leading one right now.” It’s hard to focus when the sky is so blurry. Every time he so much as blinks, he’s no longer flying by his own will in the air but by a strong grip on his leg, crushing the armor over it with full force, and being flung helplessly. Then he opens his eyes again, and the rush is gone.

            “We’ll get there in time.” Easier said than done. Tadashi keeps his face forward.

            Grey envelops the sky they fly in. San Fransokyo has become a rowdy place.

 

            There’s just… so much.

            Honey Lemon grits her teeth as another wave of microbots break through. Formulas compile neatly in her brain like a stack of textbooks, all organized in color and shape and ready to be read, when the bots come crashing through, destroying not only the order but the contents in between.

            And if she doesn’t get out of here, she’ll be destroyed too!

            Another ball, another mix. Hopefully this one will work.

            Eyes clenched tightly, and wishing, she lunges forward and throws.

 

            The hope in his chest suddenly dims.

            There’s something wrong happening. His friends, they’re feeling cornered. Distressed and worry, for themselves and for each other; feelings travel through miniscule threads. He’s moving fast, but not fast enough. There are people in the way, those who have to be evacuated and those that need help. He can’t leave them be.

            But he has to hurry.

            Leveling his wand, he whispers another spell. No more explosions, no more sudden rushes. The feeling of mirth in magic has been sectioned, threaded into a thin strand that comes and goes.

            He can help those around him, but only for a little.

 

            “My arms are really starting to hurt!”

            The microbots are really, ridiculously strong. He’s here to be a hero! And he is a hero, isn’t he? He’s suited up, he’s got a team, and he’s ready for action. It’s just that, well…

            To be a hero, don’t you need to save someone first?

            Fred would really rather be saved right now than save someone else, because otherwise, his arms are going to pop right off. That sounds and feels painful.

            “Someone… help!”

 

            “Focus, Tadashi!”

            Naomi swings close enough to bump the other witch, shooting him a nasty glare when he recovers enough to look back. They haven’t got time to lapse in and out of visions. There are people around, and every time Tadashi gets a particularly powerful burst of feedback, they slow down and risk revealing themselves.

            “We don’t have time for this!” Naomi shouts, hissing when a bot nearly hits her. Those grey bits were flying around like crazy. To be close enough to feel the edge of danger but not enough to interfere… how long was this sort of plan going on?

            “Forget us, I don’t have time for this.” Forget the rules. Forget the people. For a moment, just focus at the job at hand. She extends her wand, and points.

            “Let’s see what we have to work with.”

 

            There’s not much to work with.

            The bots are closing in—fast. There’s not much more to do at this rate. Hiro is running, ducking, jumping, anything really to get out of the hands of Callaghan. But he severely misjudged his professor. His own creation too, he supposes.

            Because the microbots combined with Callaghan are a horrifying match. He’s doing everything he can do get away, but it’s just not enough. No Tadashi ex machina to help this time. No sudden surprises from a little too helpful robot pal. No, it’s all Hiro.

            Which is why, knocked into the air and barely holding on for his life, that he really starts to think.

 

            The hope is stronger now than ever before. It’s almost suffocating; the feeling bubbles up in him, drawing strength from him to someone else. Who?

            Who is doing this?

            It can’t be Honey Lemon; her hope is lighter than this. And it’s been diminished. Gogo? No, she’s got a different type of will. Fred is out of the question; Tadashi has been receiving painful vibes from him for a while. Wasabi couldn’t be there either. He was having a bit of panic at the moment, hope extinguished by the overpowering strength of another.

            Then who?

            Who is devouring his strength, eating along his way of security until it reaches Tadashi, pulling at him ruthlessly? Who is tearing into him, reading everything he has? Who is it?

            Is it Hiro?

 

            “Another angle!”

            Isn’t that what they’re all doing? Thinking, struggling, trying to get out of the situation. He’s been trying, pulling at invisible strings for clues, but every time he lessens the bots get closer.

            But maybe Wasabi can take Hiro’s words in a different way. A more literal fashion.

            Finally, he digs his arms in and slashes at the ground, disappearing through it. Ha! Who cares if the bots collide—he’s out of here now!

            Time to be a hero.

 

            Tadashi has gone haggard for the first time since flying.

            They’re close, ridiculously and dangerously so. She doesn’t need to be here, not by the Council’s wishes anyway, but it’s not like she could turn down the plea for help when Shao vouched to go with her stupid, injured arms instead. She didn’t have a choice.

            But now that she’s watching, she’s glad that someone came.

            Working with a sudden control is hard. She started out the same as Tadashi, and as many witches before the times of industrialism. Magic came by instinct, by the call of nature, not some manufactured specialty. But then she was taken. Then she learned.

            And she shined.

            Tadashi could too, probably. There was a reason he was picked as a candidate to fill in the dying Key Witches. The reason was not because he’d get wracked by large amounts of feedback.

            Today, she’d be watching. Today she’d test how he gets under pressure, the worst kind nature can bring.

            The test has already begun. He better be ready for it.

 

            “Woman up!”

            It’s said with neither contempt nor crudeness, but pure satisfaction. Nothing in the world beats skating by at high speeds, tracking down enemies and beating them to a pulp.

            What? It’s true.

            Gogo didn’t come to San Fransokyo for a boring life. She came to make things fast, and dangerous and wild, and totally amazing. And she’s totally succeeding.

            Take that, Yokai.

 

            The building is a whirlwind. There’s bots everywhere, for one thing. For another, that’s his little brother and his best friends fighting his old professor in a mask with a giant portal in the sky.

            When Tadashi agreed to become a witch, he had been expecting a crazy life of adventure.

            This sight? Not what he was picturing.

            “There’s something off about that portal.” Naomi is here too, eyes wide at the display. His friends—the heroes, sorry, are doing a pretty good job at taking down the villain. Professor Callaghan doesn’t stand a chance against a team with that level of coordination and that variety of techniques. Even he can’t help a whoop when Honey Lemon gets towers destroyed in a giant, pink explosion.

            “Tadashi,” Naomi whispers. There’s more than wonder in her tone now, something worrying underneath. He almost doesn’t want to hear it.

            “What?” It can’t be that bad. Hiro, his friends, even Baymax, they’ll all be safe. Mochi said so.

            “There’s someone in there.” Where? She’s staring upwards, hand rising slowly. It moves higher than his friends on the ground level. Higher than Hiro and Baymax, looping around and baiting the microbots. Higher than Callaghan, sending wave after wave against his brother and failing.

            The hand stops.

            “The portal?” Thoughts of Callaghan come flying in. Ranting about Krei. Confusion over how the two men, partners united by technology and passion, were broken apart so finely. Talking about a portal, about Abigail. Frightening silence when the name left his lips.

            Hiro and Baymax have reached Callaghan. They don’t hurt him, only take his mask. The microbots come apart.

            “Yes.”

            His friends will be safe. His brother, his robot, they’ll all be fine.

            “I want to go in.”

            The portal comes crashing down.

 

            “My sensors indicate that there remains someone inside.”

            “What?”

            They’re all staring. Shock, not disbelief, because Baymax is above lying and they have faith in the bot’s programming. Baymax wasn’t programmed to be wrong.

            But that means that he’s right. That means that there is someone inside.

            “Abigail.”

            No question about it. They all know. But they also all know that the portal is falling apart. For goodness sake, Krei is even yelling it at the top of his lungs at them. It’s far too dangerous to enter. They probably won’t make it out.

            But even so.

            Even so.

            Callaghan did this for Abigail. He did this for his daughter.

            And wouldn’t Hiro do the same for Tadashi? Didn’t he almost?

            “We have to help.”

 

            “Easiest. Mission. Ever!”

            “Speak for yourself. I nearly got pummeled when I went to check things out the first time.” Sakura muttered in reply, feeling her arm. Despite appearances, the witches could fight and fight hard.

            “Well you could have won yesterday if you weren’t too busy staring at that guy’s abs. See? This is why you become a lesbian. So that when you see guys, instead of raping them with your eyes, you can rape them with your knives!” Rose rhymed, not bothering to hide her laughter. Sakura could punch her for that, but there were other people around and she certainly didn’t want to deal with the trouble.

            “Shut it. I didn’t even know it was him. And he fell on me, you think the first thing I do is think back to the first time I somewhat see him through crates and cracks? As if,” Sakura snorts in reply. If she had gotten closer then, wouldn’t the mission be over by now? No, not really. Yama still wanted the boy after all.

            “Hmm, well whatever. We have this now, so it’s as good as done.” Rose hummed, playing around with the trinket in her hand. As promised, a microbot straight from the clash. Amusingly enough, Krei had been involved in said clash. Watching him struggle was entertaining—he deserved it for all his high talk and two face personality.

            Krei would get his microbot.

            Yama would get his play toy.

            All would be right in the world—underground, that is.

 

            “Hiro, you are the biggest idiot I’ve ever known!”

            Tadashi stared, right eye twitching and other eye blown large, as his little brother, flying on his armored robot, flew into the portal. He didn’t even enter yet!

            Hiro was… Hiro is… argh!

            Tadashi groaned as he flew in.

            Forget witch hunters and any magic accident, stress from his little brother was going to be the cause of his death.

 

            Wow.

            Suddenly, Tadashi’s request to throw himself into danger made a lot more sense after seeing his little brother beat him to the punch. Naomi raised an eyebrow when Tadashi entered right after, seething as he did so. What, did self-sacrifices run in the family or something?

            It probably did. Forget she said that.

            But the portal… something about it was sure off. She couldn’t figure it out before, but now, she’s almost certain. Seeing the ripples made when Tadashi enter it only confirmed her suspicions.

            A self-produced barrier, similar to ones made by familiars. To create it by man-made abilities is near impossible; surely there must have been some disruption somewhere. Was it the person inside who activated her potential just as she entered? Or was it another, creating a disturbance at the time?

            She was overlooking something in this city.

            But what was it?

 

            The portal feels like magic.

            Weird, he knows, especially to describe something made by man. But from the moment he entered to now, tracking Hiro carefully as he searches through the debris, Tadashi has yet to shake the feeling off magic rippling around him. This was no normal portal, at least, not anymore.

            “Baymax! Look!” That was Hiro. Had they located Abigail?

            Yes. Tadashi heaved a sigh of relief, seeing the sleeping face of Callaghan’s daughter. He had his suspicions, but hearing his friends discuss it frantically as Hiro leapt into the portal was enough of a clue in.

            Then they were moving out. But they were… slower. Tadashi frowned as he watched them move, wading through fallen and loose structures as before. There were delays in their movements, almost like he was watching a video dialed to run at half time if time existed in here—even now, he couldn’t tell how long he had been floating.

            What did that mean? What could that mean?

            The portal isn’t a portal. They’ve been led into a barrier, surely, except a barrier can only occur under specific settings. Even when he was starting out with Mochi by his side, he could never cast the spell without Mochi’s permission first. Ending the barrier was his duty, not starting it.

            Then that meant that in some point of the portal’s history, it was activated under the right settings. There had to have been a familiar there, or a substitute for one, to create the barrier. There should have been a witch there, but if not, someone with a high enough affinity to react to the familiar’s spells.

            The final piece for a barrier is a bubble. The barrier is placed inside of the bubble, sealing the cracks from reality and illusion, and crossing worlds to allow beings to pass through. And for there to be a bubble, there had to be some entity already inside.

            Something had been in the portal before. The barrier had been going this whole time, at least from Abigail’s disappearance to now. If that was the case, then the bubble would have been there the whole time too.

            As well as a monster.

            “Hiro!” Tadashi called, charging forward. Hiro, Baymax and Abigail… wouldn’t they all be defenseless against the entity inside? Sure, he had somehow equipped Baymax with abilities beyond his expectations, and yes, he did indeed somehow plant a spirit within his robot, but that didn’t mean that Baymax could fight against some sort of monster that created and resided within a bubble for months.

            Whatever this creature was, it needed to stay in.

            Yelling at Hiro again, Tadashi maneuvered through broken glass and clumps of microbots. Though it was a smart idea that the time to have them enter to break down Callaghan, it was really starting to seem like a bad strategy when getting through them. Hiro seemed to agree, because his little brother was loudly yelling directions at Baymax.

            Luckily they were making it out nicely. Abigail’s pod, though large, was easy to maneuver. It was obviously made for such an environment, which only brought up more worries. Did Krei know about this place when building the pod? Or did they think it was just a coincidence? In normal terms, wouldn’t this be a wormhole rather than a transporter?

            Wait. If this was a wormhole, or a barrier, and Hiro got stuck in it with Tadashi inside, wouldn’t that surely mean that he would attract whatever beast was in here from the beginning? And Hiro surely wouldn’t be able to make it out safely then, would he?

            Speeding forward, Tadashi narrowly dodged a window that came his way. The debris was moving so quickly compared to him and the others. That wasn’t right. Even without Mochi to balance out the barrier, he shouldn’t be affected to such an extent by it. If he was being affected to this state, what of Hiro, Baymax, maybe even Abigail’s pod?

            Kicking forward off some pipes, Tadashi felt himself gain some speed again. No air resistance in this place, but no wind either. It was all self-formed propeller. When Abigail entered the portal, had she just run out of power? Or had she the bad luck to encounter the beast hidden inside? There were so many questions attacking at him.

            Tadashi frowned, flying safely over Baymax. The robot probably had him in his radar now, but it was Hiro Tadashi had to watch out for. It wasn’t his barrier, so he wouldn’t be certain how much Hiro would remember after leaving it. Actually, could he close this barrier?

            That’s it. If Tadashi could close the barrier right after they left, then it would be fine. He could trap the creature inside, no problem. They’d all be safe; him, Hiro, Baymax and Abigail. It could be the perfect plan.

            They were almost out.

            That was probably why the moment they felt relief, a building came crashing into them and their spirits.

 

            There are five witches in the city.

            No debate needed about that. Sure, every here and there, there may be a burst of magical energy. But it’s not enough to be taken note of. Witches have outputs, that leak and let people track them.

            There’s her and Shao, obviously. Tadashi too, the Head Witch to watch. Then the other two, both people she’d prefer not to think of. But then what? Then who?

            Who could have been there at the time of the creation of the portal? Who lit the fire of the creation of the barrier? Who oversaw it, familiar or witch?

            There had to be someone. Maybe they left the city a while back, maybe they stayed. But there had to be someone. Surely, if she asked around, someone will know.

            Who was it?

            “Baymax!”

            Hiro and Tadashi were in unison for once since their disappearance into the portal. The chunk of concrete had appeared without warning, crashing into Abigail and Hiro. Baymax had, as always, protected his patients first.

            Baymax had swung around to receive the brunt of the hit.

            Tadashi sat, perplexed, as the scene played out in front. Hiro was still yelling “Baymax! Baymax!” while his robot was suspended in the not air, floating gently. His armored boots gave a frizzle, but that was all. They all realized what was happening, but it took Baymax to speak for them to accept it.

            “My thrusters are inoperable.”

            “Just grab hold!” Hiro yelled back. Baymax extended his armored hand, coming closer to Hiro. Would they make it? Could they make it, with the barrier so shaky? When would the monster appear? Tadashi watched as Hiro grabbed hold of the robot’s arm and tugged him to temporary safety.

            They wouldn’t be able to do much alone. Hiro had made his suit entirely dependent on Baymax, and Abigail couldn’t do a thing in her sleeping position. What could Baymax do with broken thrusters? Not to mention, wasn’t the portal unstable in the first place? There was only one thing left to do to ensure safety for them all.

            Taking in a breath, Tadashi moved from his position above them. He’d have to be close enough to them in order for the incantation to have any effect. Even if it meant revealing himself at this point, it would be fine. To protect Hiro, wasn’t that why he became a witch in the first place?

            “There is still a way to get you both out of here,” Tadashi froze. Baymax still had a plan, after all. Taking in a breath, he and Hiro stared as the robot moved its arm into the back of the pod. As soon as the armored fist hit the back, the robot looked back up. Was it looking at Hiro, or Tadashi? He wasn’t really sure anymore.

            “I can not deactivate until you say you are satisfied with your care.”

            Oh.

            _Oh._

“Wait, wait no no no, wait,” wow, they really were in unison today, “wait, what about you?” It wasn’t too late. Tadashi could still do this. Baymax wasn’t the same as Hiro and Abigail, Tadashi enchanted him long ago. The robot was his. He had the right to protect him, didn’t he?

            “You are my patient.”

            “Baymax, no!”

            “You are my only concern.”

            “Baymax!”

            “Stop, no, no,” Was Hiro sobbing? Tadashi frowned, peering closer. His little brother… how much would losing Baymax hurt Hiro? He seemed fine in his visions after the defeat of Callaghan, why was he in so much pain now? Tadashi prowled close, arms outstretched. Hiro…

            “I can not deactivate—”

            “No, no no no! I I can’t just leave you here! There’s got to be another way!” There was. He could bring them out. “I’ll think of something!”

            “There is no time.” Baymax’s eyes flicked up and down. Again, Tadashi was uncertain which Hamada the robot was speaking to. Was he calming and reassuring the distressed Hiro that his safety was number one? Or was he telling Tadashi to wait, not be hasty as he always was with dealing with his brother?

            “Are you satisfied with your care?” Obviously not. So long as Baymax was determined that he could safely get Hiro and Abigail out, Tadashi technically couldn’t use his abilities to interfere. And it wasn’t like Hiro had any abilities in the first place.

            “Please,” that definitely sounded like a sob, “I can’t lose you too.” And that one was directed at both Tadashi and Baymax, wasn’t it? What could he say that Hiro hadn’t heard already? What could he say that would soften the blow to his fragile little brother, who despite his tough demeanor, always cared about others? What could he do for the brother that had lost him, someone he desperately needed? Shuffling closer to Hiro, Tadashi sat down, watching his brother. He could offer a little comfort in a promise he had sworn to keep from birth to now.

            “I will always be there for you.”

            Hiro froze. His mind was working, probably, thinking of a way out. But there was none. They were all lost, trapped in this net that they threw themselves in. If Tadashi hadn’t been so adamant to accept his new role, could he be seen by Hiro, there to protect his brother? If he hadn’t run into the building, couldn’t he have prevented this? If he had just put Hiro first, like he always did, wouldn’t this be fine?

            Tadashi didn’t voice his thoughts as Hiro moved forward, tugging Baymax into a hug. Here was where he couldn’t offer comfort. Here was where he could only feel Hiro through Baymax; where the weight on invisible thin threads was felt one-sided. Here he could only watch as his little brother came apart for someone other than him.

            “I am satisfied with my care.” But Tadashi wasn’t. Baymax was his only way of seeing, caring for Hiro when he couldn’t actually approach his brother. Hiro shifted back, clutching onto Abigail’s pod in wait. Careful as to not touch his brother, Tadashi shuffled off the transport, shifting onto his staff again. He didn’t need Baymax to sacrifice himself for safety. He could get out alone.

            He could get out alone.

            He could also get out with another.

            Turning back to Baymax, Tadashi watched as his robot shot his arm. Momentum, as always, was cast as evenly as possible in a closed space like this one. Hiro and the pod shot out in the direction of the portal hole while Baymax was sent off in the other direction. Tadashi didn’t have time to stay back.

            But he did.

            “Baymax!”

            “Tadashi.” Baymax turned his head just slightly to look at the elder Hamada, keeping both brothers in his line of vision. Tadashi was flying, jeering along a sharp turn to Baymax’s behind. One arm pressed against the vinyl.

            “Baymax, what are you thinking? Come on, we have to move, this barrier is about as unstable as they come,” Tadashi hissed, pushing Baymax. The robot was still drifting back despite his efforts, eyes watching as Hiro and Abigail neared the entrance of the portal.

            “Tadashi, please leave.” Was it just Tadashi, or was Baymax sounding incredibly strange? Glancing over at the bot, Tadashi growled, drawing one leg out to kick at the robot. Well, at least they weren’t moving backwards anymore.

            “What? And what about you?” One leg and arm on Baymax, another balancing him on the staff. Witch etiquette like no other, Tadashi thought dryly. But it worked, and they were moving forward. But not fast enough.

            “I-I am s-s-s-sorryyyy,” What was that? Tadashi groaned, pushing harder. Come on, come on! He could cast something, even in this position. But there was nothing to bounce off of. Nothing to aim at and create the same momentum Baymax did.

            “What for?” Tadashi questioned, eyes searching. The microbots were too small to get a good charge from. Were Hiro and Abigail out yet? He wasn’t sure. It was Baymax; even if he was moving quickly, the robot’s large size and weight kept them moving at a slower pace. The destroyed debris could only offer bits of boost when they passed by. Would they really make it out?

            “I am d-d-deaaac,” that was it. Tadashi let out another frustrated moan at that, peering over to confirm his suspicions. Yep. Baymax was deactivated, just as he was pushing his robot out of the collapsing barrier. He would close it himself if he could, but even he couldn’t guarantee safety for either Baymax or him if he did so.

            How was he supposed to get out like this, with an inflated armored Baymax and small debris around? He couldn’t push himself off them at that size, and even if he could, Baymax’s large size was slowing them down.

            Everything around him was too small, and Baymax was too big. Wait.

            Couldn’t he just even the odds a little?

            “Forget trouble, Mochi is going to kill me when I’m done,” even so, Tadashi couldn’t help the wide grin gracing his face. Forgive him for imitating Hiro, but this was genius. It was about time that the two needed to get out. Releasing his arm from Baymax, Tadashi focused on the staff below him. It was weird to cast with the very item he was flying on, but it was for maximum range.

            “Reversi, Reversai, a peek from another eye. Reversal!” The barrier rippled as the spell took place, flying out from Tadashi in wide circles to his surroundings. Baymax was the first to shrink, going from 75 inches to barely 5, while the debris around them began to explode in size. Actually, seeing the microbots go from a tiny one inch length to twenty inches wasn’t bad, but seeing concrete chunks from destroyed buildings pop up in size was a little bit mollifying.

            Well, it didn’t really matter. It worked, and that was the only important thing. Grinning as he dragged the miniscule Baymax closer (wow, Baymax fit in his hand!) Tadashi aimed the staff once more. Baymax sent a rocket fist to push out Hiro and Abigail, he could send out dragons.

            Tapping at the edge of a building, Tadashi began to chant.

 

            “Hiro!”

            The four of them turned to the portal as it flexed, the outer parts collapsing when the pod came flying out. Behind the escapees, the portal hovered and stilled, before making a loud creaking noise when the structure finally began to fall apart. Piece by piece, it collapsed.

            But Hiro was safe. That was the most important thing. They should be happy, Hiro is okay!

            Hiro certainly didn’t look happy.

            “Hiro?” Wasabi questioned, looking down at the youngest of the group. Speaking of, where had Baymax gone? Did they separate when leaving the portal? The others seemed to reach the same conclusion at once, Honey Lemon ducking down to look around for Baymax. But before they could spread out, Hiro shook his head.

            “Hiro?” Wasabi repeated, reaching out one hand to shake the boy. But Hiro shook his head again, looking downcast at the pod. It was then that they saw it.

            A very familiar glove. Red and blue color scheme, and too wide for a human hand.

            Baymax’s glove.

            “No.” He whispered, looking down at Hiro. But the boy didn’t offer any words of comfort, needing it himself. But there was nothing they could offer.

            Baymax itself would be needed to offer comfort. But Baymax was gone.

 

             “You’re an idiot!”

            “Ow! Ow! Okay, I get it, stop hitting me!”

            “Hello. My name is Baymax. I was alerted—”

            “What? That’s the thing you went back for? You are an idiot!” Naomi jumped, smacking Tadashi one last time before she moved away. What the heck was that thing? A white puffball?

            “Naomi, ouch!” Tadashi whined, shielding his face with one arm, the other cradling Baymax. His body was about as exhausted as it could be from all the action he’d been throw into the past two days, getting hit by another witch who didn’t bother to hold back didn’t help. “I had to go save him!”

            “A robot.” Naomi deadpanned, glaring down at Baymax. “You risked your life in a barrier that we don’t even know how it originated, for a bot. One that, oh gee I don’t know, you maybe could have rebuilt!”

            “Hypocritical of you seeing as you cried when Poochi exploded.” Both Naomi and Tadashi turned to the new voice, eyes wide at the intruder.

            “Shao!” Naomii jumped forward, tackling the other witch with a hug. However, the other witch simply winced back with a soft “ow”, causing Naomi to jerk back. Oops, injured arms and all.

            “Shouldn’t you be resting? I thought that you couldn’t heal those,” Tadashi questioned, leaning forward to take one of Shao’s arms. Naomi huffed in the background, but she watches as Tadashi examined the stitched together skin. Surprisingly, much of the thread had already been swallowed by the growing skin in a matter of hours. Raising an eyebrow at Shao, Tadashi wondered how quickly she could heal.

            “Fast healers, we all are. Something like this can’t get me down.” Shao grinned, patting Naomi lightly. “Don’t worry about me. I’m grateful for your help though.”

            It was true. Despite all the scrapes and bruises, and luckily no broken bones, which Tadashi achieved in his various missions, he almost always awoke the next day perfectly fine. Even in the first weeks where he was consistently busy with work, he could tackle mission after mission with little worry. But even so, seeing the change between a long gaping wound on her arm to nearly healed in a night’s rest was… both grotesque and fascinating.

            “You should still be resting!” Tadashi argued. If he felt drained from last night, he could only imagine how tired Shao must be after sustaining injuries. As if reading his mind, the yukionna turned to him.

            “Are you one to debate with me, coming here of all places after awakening?” Flushing as Naomi laughed shamelessly, Tadashi receded. Shao wasn’t wrong, but she still should be resting. He just… should be resting too. Ugh, he hated being a hypocrite.

            “Go home, Tadashi. I babysat you long enough. There’s obviously stuff going on here so we,” Naomi jabbed Shao, grinning widely, “will be staying for a while. Better get comfy with us here!” Then she pulled on Shao and leapt off the edge of the building. Shao offered a last nod before following suit, leaving Tadashi alone.

            “Your heart rate is elevated. Are you alright?”

            Well, almost alone.

            Offering a tired smile at the miniscule robot in his palm, Tadashi laughed.

            “Yeah, Baymax, I'm alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much the end of the first arc of Witchcraft, which was always meant to be just covering the movie.  
> To all those of you who have been reading and following this story until this point, I'm really grateful. It was a struggle to write when I got writer's block in some areas and with basically no feedback, it felt like I was writing for an empty audience. Every view, kudo and especially comment was such a big boost to encourage me to keep on writing. This story is long and jumbled, but I've pretty much managed to wrangle it into a structured plot. I'm eager to keep on writing.
> 
> Next chapter will be a very short one that sets up arc 2 of Witchcraft. I'll mark this one off as complete and the next story will just be named a variation of Witchcraft _____. 
> 
> Again, thanks for reading and making it to here. If you would continue on to the second arc, I'd be very grateful.


	21. Abrupt End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The movie’s over and the credits are rolling, but the characters are still struggling to live

            Everyone dies

            The end

 

            ……

 

 

 

 

 

            “Has the Head Witch picked out a date for the ceremony yet?” Sharlee frowned, picking at the seat. When she had decided to befriend Tadashi, she hadn’t expected being put in charge of the whole project.

            “No.” He really hadn’t. It almost seemed like he wasn’t aware of its existence; Sharlee was fairly certain Tadashi would at least tell her he wouldn’t want one instead of just avoiding the issue. “Besides, there are more important matters at the moment.”

            “What could be more important than our city’s pride?” The voice is cutting. Despite her human appearance, the speaker felt like an intimidating giant when at her seat at the top of the city. The only one who could match her was so tall without any illusions.

            “Our city’s safety!” Sharlee argued. It’s weird, and horrifying, to talk back to the City Council of Magic and Mystery (abbreviated to just City Council or CCMM) but this has to be dealt with.

            “I assure you, there is nothing wrong with the city. We have been patrolling since the Hunt, and there has been nothing of alarm.” Except there was. There was plenty to worry about in a little house in a plain neighborhood, guarded by a living dead man and a needlework witch.

            But they didn’t see it. They couldn’t see it, really. And it didn’t make sense, because Sharlee was young and hardly a threat, depending on charms and enchantments to perform basic spells, but she could see the colorful strings set up. She could see the warning of death towering above the city, emitting from a house of horrors. It didn’t make sense for her, little Sharlee of forty years born and raised in the slums of San Frannsokyo to see something that the city’s highest beings could not.

            She did though.

            She could see it.

            “The woman—” The man raises his arm and she stills. Fine.

            Fine.

            “That’s the end of my report.”

            She’ll watch the city burn, if she needs to. But she won’t sit down without a fight. She won’t lay down, cowering over nothing.

            She’ll burn before the city, caught in the snares of two mismatched witches.

 

            Tadashi loses the ability to see.

            Well no, not really. He’s just being dramatic. He can see just fine, with twenty-twenty vision and absolutely no need for glasses, despite Honey Lemon’s assurance that they would be his fashion statement piece. Yes, Tadashi Hamada’s eyes work perfectly.

            But he can’t see Hiro.

            Not with Baymax here, deactivated and charmed in his room above Mrs. Matsuda. And he can’t go back to Lucky Cat Café now, to sneak into his room and nab his stuff (he cleans some clothes, and replaces the books he takes with perfect precision, but even so there’s disappointment nabbing at him when Hiro doesn’t realize) when Baymax isn’t there to be his eyes and ears. Mochi had told him to stop going back, and it _hurt_ , burns like something he can’t imagine thrumming through. But he listens, like he always does.

            So he’s stuck in a house as Tadashi Hamada, brother (but not) of Hiro Hamada, and separated like the ghost he’s supposed to play. But it’s hard, and hurtful, to be away and when Baymax suggests the spell he’s torn between laughing and crying.

            Mochi doesn’t even recognize him at first, with long curled black hair and skinny heels.

            Tadashi Hamada can’t see Hiro but Ta—uh…

            Actually, maybe he should think of another name first.

 

            “Imouto?”

            She’s knocking at the door, softly as to not startle the person inside, to no response. This is dumb, because she saw her imouto walking in just moments earlier, hair tussled and glasses astray. Alister must have done something wrong, again, to mess her up. Forgotten hatred burns in her throat, but she forces it down to rap harder.

            “Imouto?” Again, silence. But she hears the shifting blankets, the sound of pillows. Her sister is inside, but unmoving to the door. It burns her to say that name, the one that doesn’t fit, but it is all imouto responds to now.

            “Assistant.” Finally, movement.

            The door swings open as siblings, connected by time and not blood, stare into each other. Imouto (and she’ll always be imouto, never really assistant) has red eyes and flushed cheeks, and even in the dark room the tear tracks are easy to see. Sympathy, not pity, flushes over.

            She hugs her, two people embracing in the open doorway. Imouto sniffles, the only sound from her, and she can feel the hot new tears through the kimono’s thin fabric.

            “What has Alister done this time?” No response other than more sniffling, at least not vocally. But one hand raises, with two fingers raised, and hot fury pours in to replace sympathy.

            Imouto’s ring and index finger. She knows the meaning all too well, from the time she had occupied Alister’s bed as well. It’s a familiar aching pain that pangs, but anger for imouto rather than herself is what rises.

            Susanne was no surprise. Alister’s fondest bed mate, even when he throws her away and breaks their engagements for a throwaway doll like imouto and herself. But the rings kept pouring in, diamonds on diamonds for Susanne, and the relationship stays.

            It’s the index finger that’s the issue. Someone new. Someone fresh, and lovely, and innocent enough for him to eat them from the inside out. It’s the most chilling; because someone new means that someone old will be replaced.

            She clutches imouto closer, even if it’s assistant now. Even if Alister gives her away, replaces her with a delicate bud, she will take her back. She will protect imouto, a guarding flower over the precious fruit.

            Mami (not Sakura, not for her) swears.

 

            It’s their fifth patrol of the city when Shao turns around and tells Naomi to go home.

            “Why?” She demanded. More secrets? More betrayal? But Shao only shakes her head, pats her gingerly and reminds Naomi that while Tadashi is out of work due to adjusting to limiters, they must also preserve their energy in case an emergency appears.

            She argues. Spits words and cries, curses and maybe even throws a tantrum. Because _emergency_ means nothing and everything right now, where for Naomi emergency means another interaction with that man if he ever starts his vengeance plan, but for Shao it means something more. Because someone messed with her partner, drove scars and scratches down her beautiful, powerful arms, and for all Naomi spills to Shao about the city, she gets nothing back.

            Shao stares her down, tells her it’s nothing, and patrols alone.

            Naomi swallows her hurt, because it doesn’t matter if it’s not physical pain, and flies back to the hotel.

            She misses her home in the sky.

 

            “Congratulations!”

            Fred yelps at the rain of confetti overhead. Wait, what? Who’s winning? Does he need to order cake?

            “Fred, it’s you!” Connor calls out. Oh, really? The college student beams for a moment, before confusion washes over. What?

            “What did I win? Why?” He had just been volunteering for Brothers from other Mothers, just like he regularly did in person twice a month. It had become harder with the creation of Big Hero 6 to keep up with his schedule, but he made sure to keep it in order. That aside, he won… what exactly?

            “Fred, honestly.” Liza is laughing from behind him. Somehow he ended up with not one lost freshman but two, Liza and Connor, from his move from SFU to SFIT. And they had followed him even to his weekend activities. “You won for working so much for this organization! It’s recognizing you for your dedication and contributions.”

            “But I don’t need that!” Fred shoots back, returning to his task of pulling food from one bin to another. Liza rolls her eyes, jabbing at the boy besides her to expand. Connor jolts, ticklish, and shoots Liza a look. Liza's prompt response is to wiggle her fingers threateningly over his sides.

            “Ack, okay okay! Fred, you won tickets!” That gets Fred’s attention. Free tickets for a movie? Well, he was looking at the new Marvel movie.

            “Connor, what'd he win exactly?” Liza tugs at another bag, spilling potatoes into a basket to be shaken. Her voice is thick with smug amusement as the other freshman pouts. But excitement for Fred wins over, and he turns to the senior with a grin.

            “Fred, how much do you want six tickets for… Mr. Sparkles Super Sparkle Hour!”

            “So much want!” Fred roars back, jumping up. Tickets for San Fransokyo’s biggest performance and celebrity, Mr. Sparkle? The man who created the world awe-inspiring, big blockbuster hilarious comedy show? That Mr. Sparkle? That Super Sparkle Hour?

            “Fred! That’s great!” Liza crows, jumping in to hug the two. “Who’re you going to bring? How about that cute girl from English, or me, or that scientist dude you're with, or  _me_ , or maybe even, oh," realization passes through her face and she lets go with a sheepish grin, "uh, actually, never mind.” Fred laughs at that, though it's probably even more awkward than her contribution. He hadn’t actually thought of either her or Connor.

            He had thought of a team of heroes who really needed a nice pick up.

 

            Five is a dangerous number.

            Most people like zeroes and fives. Stick to them for their time when waking up and asking for just five more minutes that dissolve into thirty, and then again when they’re late for just five minutes when it’s really twenty two. It almost seems like an unhealthy addiction to something they perceive as safe.

            It’s not safe at all.

            Five is a dangerous number, Ronald knows that. Six is not the devil’s number, but five.

            Five was their number, before Charlotte got lost with the wrong person and before Tomeo gave a little laugh as the hunters drew close. It was their number before Kevin made the wrong mistake, threw them into a loop chasing after a demon and falling into a trap. It was their number before Ronald felt everything fall apart, between him and the world. It was their number before Richard laughed, sobbing and quiet when the ties came loose.

            Five is the new number now. He’s the only returning player this time, though he’s brought a new one with him. There are three new members, two temporary and one hopefully permanent.

            It’s not going to happen that way.

            But he was once human, like everyone else, so he grasps at the organization of zeroes and fives while wondering how much longer they have to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who came on this journey to read and review this story! Arc 1 of Witchcraft is officially done! Hoorah! Hooray! Hooha!
> 
> Witchcraft Arc 2 will come out in two weeks time as a direct sequel to here. This chapter is more of a bridge/fill in for what will transpire between arcs 1 and 2. No worries, it will all be covered in the story.
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who kept up on Witchcraft. See you guys in about two weeks for Witchcraft Arc 2 (to be renamed)!


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